My Saint, Your Saviour
by RubyFiamma
Summary: [5980/8059][Smut][A/U] Gokudera Hayato is a homicide detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. Will he be able to catch the serial killer that always seems to be two steps ahead of him or will he end up becoming one of his victims?
1. Book I : My Saint : Chapter I

**My Saint, Your Saviour [Book I : My Saint]**

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**[Chapters]** 25 chapters

**[Word Count]** 185k plus

**[Status]** Completed

**(Part I of a II book series)**

**[Pairing] **8059/5980 Yamamoto Takeshi x Gokudera Hayato / Gokudera x Yamamoto

Slight mention of 0027, Enma x Tsuna

Slight smut in passing 6959, Mukuro x Gokudera

Romeo x Bianchi

**[Rating] **R18

**[Warnings] **

**Homicide AU! This fic is unbeta'd and written on my cell. I often write between 2-4 am when I'm dead tired and my auto correct has conspired against me in making me look like an idiot... so if you find something that is misspelled or cut out or doesn't make sense... Sorry about that. **

Gokudera x OC

Gokudera x Mukuro [6959]

Antigone Complex [Bianchi has a brother complex, slight]

BDSM / Slight Noncon in passing

Swearing / Violence / Angst

Character Death [Non 8059]

Hefty Smut / Rimming

AU OOC [Readers may find the characters slightly out of character, but keep in mind this is an au!verse in which characters have to adapt to the settings; it's not entirely ooc]

**[Disclaimer] **I don't own anything KHR related, all belongs to Amano Akira. The OCs belong to me.

As always, please rate and review. Comments feed my starving ego and definitely inspire me! Hope you enjoy what's to come!

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**My Saint, Your Saviour**

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**Book I : My Saint **

**Chapter I**

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Another fucking dead body. The third one in three weeks. This one was the same as the last ones too. Lacerations to the arms and torso, ligament marks around the wrists and of course, it was headless. So far, there wasn't a single lead and the press was already pissing him off.

Fuck, this was getting to be troublesome.

"Oi oi... what do we have here?" Hayato stepped up to the crime scene, pulling deep on his filterless cigarette; squinting an eye as the smoke curled around his face.

"Ah, Gokudera-san," one of the uniformed officers gasped, looking up from the corpse with surprise. "This is another John Doe... no ID on the body and well... as you can see, ahem, there's no head."

"Che... no shit. This is getting to be real fucking annoying." He flicked the cigarette down on the ground and crushed it beneath his heel.

"Uh, Gokudera-san, the crime scene?" the officer said warily, eyeing the cigarette butt.

"Eh?" Hayato looked down at the cigarette and shrugged. "Oh. Well, discard of it, will you? Where the fuck is Sasagawa?"

The officer stood and sighed. "I haven't seen him. We were the first ones on the scene." He nodded in the direction of the other uniformed officers.

"Che, fucking idiot lawn head. Have the CSU clean this shit up and put the report on my desk. Ugh."

Hayato lit another cigarette and watched as the uniformed officer he didn't know the name of nod and trudge over to the crime scene unit chief, Kyoya Hibari. The officer winced, no doubt because of the way Kyoya sneered at him and told him to get lost before he was bitten to death. Hayato was glad he didn't have to deal with that asshole, he walked around with a big chip on his shoulder and his head held immodestly high just because he came from a long line of Japanese warriors.

Not to say that Hayato didn't have his own chip on the shoulder, he was just a different kind of asshole.

Hayato Gokudera was a hot headed and brash, infamous homicide detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. Since Namimori was such a large town, it had been divided into sections and he happened to live and work within the Namimori Middle District.

His infamacy didn't come from his spectacular detective skills, from catching high profile killers or a reputation that proceeded him. He was known for being the brother of the notorious Poison Scorpion, or Bianchi Filippi as Hayato knew her. Well, he wasn't really infamous for that here in Japan. Back in Italy, not only was he known for being a brash and hot tempered brat, he was known for his dangerously seductive sister.

Bianchi was a very beautiful woman with ivory skin and rose coloured hair. Her eyes were a bright olive green, a few shades darker than her brother's, and her lips were smooth and supple, to which she always had painted in a fresh, glossy vermilion stain. She had received her nickname from the assumption that she had poisoned her previous husbands, the most recent being husband number four, Romeo di Marco, a prospective Italian mobster, who was next in line to be the new head of the Bovino Famiglia. Though there was much speculation, most cases ended in the victims dying of natural causes and Bianchi making it out rich with the insurance or other material things. There was no evidence to make a conviction stick but Hayato knew otherwise. His sister was a beautifully cunning and dangerous woman.

Growing up in Italy, Hayato knew the mafia world quite well. His father was an underboss and his uncle, Shamal worked as black market doctor for their family or any other crime syndicate that would pay in large bills or voluptuous women.

With his father being so involved in criminal activities, he was left to the devices of his older sister who force fed him cookies laced with cyanide on several occasions. She had always loved to hate her little brother and he had developed a sick nauseating phobia whenever he saw her face.

Hayato grew up from a quiet and docile boy into a very short tempered man who smoked and drank and cursed a lot, in three different and colourful languages. He had sharp green eyes that reflected any source of light like they were pools of liquid jade and flawless, alabaster skin. He had silver hair that looked like it was kissed by moonlight that fell in short layers over his eyes and laid in longer, shaggy locks that framed around his structured jaw and neck. He occasionally tied it back with a loose rubber band but never at work, that was a little _too _casual and sometimes he felt his rash behavior and style of dress already embarrassed his captain enough.

He was small in stature, but not frail by any means. His body was angular and sharp, his shoulder blades like wing bones that popped out when his tight leather jacket stretched across his back and ridiculously jutted out were his hip bones, often accentuated by the obscenely low ride of his jeans. His chest was beveled and his torso concave, his long legs turned outward just slightly at the knee, giving him a bow legged appearance. He wore a small silver hoop in each ear, with two silver cuffs lining the outer shell and his fingers were adorned in various fashioned rings, one being a very ornate pewter with a large ruby and garnet stone inlay to which he adored very much.

He didn't have the appearance of your typical cop but putting in almost seven years of heavy grunt work to get where he was, including having to wear that god awful unfashionable uniform, you better believe Hayato was going to take the advantage of being able to dress they way he wanted. As long as Tsuna was fine with it, that was all that mattered to Hayato.

"Alright, alright... where's the coroner?" he asked an officer, stepping over the limp legs that belonged to the corpse. The officer cringed and pointed to his left.

Hayato followed the direction with his eyes and landed on Tetsuya Kusakabe, their resident corner. Hayato had no idea how he became to work with dead people because he always seemed too kind for his off putting appearance - which if you asked Hayato, he'd tell you he looked liked some fucking delinquent and not professional at all, though he'd just be the pot calling the kettle black. Hayato believed his somewhat distaste for the man had something to do with his odd devotion to Hibari.

"Yo, Kusakabe! Have you cleared the body yet? I wanna get the fuck outta here," Hayato shouted, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the corpse.

Kusakabe inclined an eyebrow. "You've only just arrived, Gokudera-san. Have somewhere you'd rather be?"

Hayato snorted. "Are you an idiot? Of course I'd rather be some place else rather than in the middle of downtown fucking Namimori staring at another dead fucking body. What was the estimated time of death?"

Kusakabe checked his watch. "I put ETD around eight pm yesterday. The body's already in rigor."

Hayato crossed his arms and bit the tip of his thumb. "Cause of death was exsanguination due to the lack of a fucking head?"

Kusakabe nodded, his black hair, too thick and wavy for a man his age - which Hayato had to assume was close to forty- bobbed up and down with the motion. "That appears to be the case, the most obvious anyways. I'll know more when I've had a chance to examine the body. Hm, but Gokudera-san... it's probably the same as the previous two. This seems like its the beginning of a pattern."

Hayato rolled his eyes. "No fucking shit, I figured that out after the second body was dumped. It's not everyday we deal with headless corpses popping up all over town, you know... Speaking of which, this _was_ a dump site, wasn't it?"

Kusakabe set the pen he had been using to fill put paperwork on a clipboard by the coroner's van back into the breast pocket of his white lab coat. "Ah yes. Though there's no blood here at the site, the lividity shows that our John Doe was placed here shortly after death."

Hayato grit his teeth. "Yeah, thanks. Have the report on my desk as soon as possible. I've got to let the tenth know we're dealing with a serial killer."

Kusakabe nodded. Everyone had become accustomed to Hayato's nickname for their boss, even though no one else calls Tsuna that. In fact, such a nickname would probably be highly offensive had Tsuna and Hayato been friends since high school.

He had ran away from home when he was eight, after finding out his bastard father had an affair on whom he thought was his mother and learning he was the product of that affair. After doing some research, he discovered that the woman who had come to see him occasionally and taught him piano was his mother. Digging further, he uncovered she had been murdered by his father's men because mafia law states that no out of wedlock children can be heir for the next generation Don. With his mother out of the way, his father was free to claim him as a proper son, thus eligible to follow in his father's stead.

Hayato wanted absolutely no part of the mafia or his father. He was on a very dark path, becoming quite the little punk of Palermo and willing to stop at nothing to bring down his father and company. He hated this world and he hated that life but soon realized he wasn't that far off from living the same way some mafia wannabe brat was and decided to catch the first flight out of Italy and start a whole new life wherever that was.

That happened to be a flight to Namimori, Japan. Hayato wasn't much of a believer in fate but at that moment he became one of its followers. His mother had turned out to be half Japanese, a beautiful woman with large green eyes and long silver hair. He had found a picture of her and her family tree in one of his father's black books. His mother's name was Lavina Gokudera, born to an Italian woman by the name of Marienna and Hayato Gokudera; a rice farmer that had immigrated to Italy, in a countryside town called Modica. She was an amazing concert pianist in her prime and since Hayato's father was a very selfish man, he became obsessed with her and demanded she be his.

He boarded the plane using his birth name, his _Italian _name Luciano Filippi and landed Hayato Gokudera, taking his _real _mother's maiden name and her father's first name. He was fourteen when he came to live in the Middle District of Namimori and tried to live as normal of a life as he could. He enrolled in the only school, Namimori Middle where he met his best friend, Tsunayoshi Sawada. Or Sawada Tsunayoshi if you properly used Japanese honorifics like Hayato had learned to before coming to Japan.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, or Tsuna for short, was a good natured man. He was kind and strong willed and wanted to change the world. Well, the streets of Namimori for now.

He was the tenth generation police chief, as his father and grandfather were before him and he was the one who had helped Hayato find his righteous path in life, aiding him in his goal to make Namimori a safe place, protecting his friends and the ones he loved. Tsuna, or the Tenth as Hayato sometimes referred to him as, was the best police chief Namimori had seen since the first generation.

He stormed over the dead body again, nearly stepping on the corpse in his little temper tantrum, his fists clenched. He was so annoyed.

"Gokudera-san!" one of the officers scolded.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. the fucking crime scene! Fuck off already!"

Hayato got into his unmarked squad car and slammed the door. He reached into the pocket of his blazer and fished put his cigarettes. He lit another one.

Before putting the car in drive he took a minute to think about the string of murders that have been plaguing his conscience since the first body had been found, discarded in an alleyway, decapitated, with the arms crossed over the chest.

So far they had all been male, mid to late twenties and still no IDs had been made. It was taking the CSU too long to run any DNA for recognition and the bastard that was doing the killing was too damned careful. There was never any fingerprints left at the scene, no hairs or fibers and Hayato knew that they were all dump sites. There were no clues, no leads and quite frankly it was really beginning to gnaw at his sanity. He hated having puzzles not pieced together, it irked him to beyond belief. He was a man of reason and logic and not being able to have a solution to a problem made him want to scream in frustration and flip tables, throwing tantrums like a child. Since he had already been kindly reprimanded by the Tenth several times for lashing out, he has developed a chain smoking habit, making the already nasty pre-existing habit far worse than it had been.

He punched his already beaten up dashboard and started the car, cursing in Italian - something he only did when he was _really _pissed off. Being the lead detective on this case he couldn't help but take this personal. He couldn't help but think the killer was taunting him, trying to outsmart him. He wasn't going to stop until he caught this fucker, because in a battle of wits, he knew he'd always come out on top.


	2. Book I : My Saint : Chapter II

_**Chapter II**_

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"Oh Octopus Head! You look extremely tired!"

A hard hand slapped down on Hayato's shoulder and the loud, gruff voice rang through his ears. He was already irritated but this man's presence always seemed to get underneath his skin like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Hayato growled and flung his glasses off the bridge of his nose on to his desk. "Ugh, shut the fuck up, Lawn Head. You're too annoying in the mornings." He reached for his likely cold coffee and took a swig anyways. Definitely ice cold.

Sasagawa Ryohei had been Hayato's partner for the last three years, as long as he's been a detective. They knew each other well, they grew up in the same town, went to the same school. The boss even dated Sasagawa's sister.

He had a lot of energy all the time like he was always pumped for something. Hayato thought his enthusiasm was good for being a cop, you couldn't allow yourself to become jaded in this line of work and that was the only thing he admired - from afar - about his partner.

When he was younger, Ryohei was quite the hot head himself, usually finding outlets for his extreme energy by constantly fighting. The last time he did something reckless like that was when he picked a fight with a boy who later brought back his friends and they beat the shit out of him. He received a severe blow to the head - which Hayato assumes is the cause of his stupidity - splitting the flesh over his temple open and knocking him unconscious. While he was in the hospital, his younger sister made him promise to never fight again and he agreed because he loved his sister and hated making her worry. Unfortunately, Ryohei was still too hyperactive, like a child with attention deficit hyperactive disorder -which Hayato strongly believes he has - and he needed something to release his pent up energy. It was then he decided on boxing, becoming devoted to the sport and his health and taking much better care as to not worry his sister. Later down the road, he joined Tsuna's quest for making Namimori Middle District a better place to live, giving up boxing and devoting himself to a life with much more purpose.

"Sorry, fuck face. Maybe you should stop getting drunk to the extreme and not be hung over in the mornings." Ryohei Sasagawa took a seat in the tattered leather chair opposite of Hayato's desk and swung his legs up to the worn wooden top.

Hayato let out an overly dramatic exasperated sigh and pushed Ryohei's legs off his desk. "Fuck you. Where the fuck were you yesterday? There's been another murder."

Ryohei frowned and set his legs back on top of Hayato's desk. "I was following up on an extreme lead," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Hayato could feel his brow twitch in annoyance. "Lead? Lead? What fucking _lead_? Don't you think you should inform your partner of these things, you bastard?!"

"Hey, hey. I called your cell but as usual," he rolled his eyes dramatically, "you didn't answer your phone. I got extremely impatient and checked it out myself. Except... it was disappointing to the extreme."

Hayato eyed his partner incredulously. "Are you serious? You came up with _nothing_? What was the lead?" He lit a smoke and blew the plume in his partner's direction.

Ryohei coughed emphatically and waved a hand in front of his face. "Sawada is gonna freak if he sees you smoking in here again. And what have I told you about that shit? I take my health very seriously, asshole."

"Tch, stop your complaining, you fucking pansy. Tell me about this stupid lead," Hayato said with a dismissive hand. He flicked the ash of his cigarette into the nasty coffee and took another long and euphoric drag.

Ryohei rolled his eyes again and placed his hands on the top of his white-haired head. His gray eyes narrowed intently. "So I went by my old boxing gym right, where I met up with one of my informants there. He tells me there's an extreme buzz in the red light district about some tall Asian dude that walks the streets down there dragging a big ass katana around like some fucking samurai out of the Edo period."

Hayato stopped his hand mid way to his mouth, the cigarette still pinched in between his thumb, index and middle finger. He glared at Ryohei.

Ryohei, paid no mind to his partner's glare, being immune to them for quite some time now. "Anyway, I called you but you being the asshole that you are, didn't answer your phone. So I asked Sawada for clearance and went by myself. Man, those courtesans are righteous little creatures aren't they? Like, to the extreme. I couldn't get a word outta them. Not a damn word and I even offered to pay them!"

"Idiot! Were you trying to get robbed?" Hayato scolded, finally bringing the cigarette up to his lips and taking a drag. He surveyed the main floor of the department where his desk was. A few uniformed officers had started to file into the station, greeting each other noisily with the fresh smell of brewed coffee and sugary sweet pastries.

The Tenth, or Tsuna rather, made a brief appearance before hurriedly rushing up to his second floor office without a glance in Hayato's direction. He frowned. He hated seeing his boss -his friend- upset and stricken with worry. This case had everyone on edge as of late, and Hayato felt like it was his sole responsibility to solve it so that he could put his boss's mind to ease.

"Oi, Octopus Head! Are you listening?"

Hayato blinked and looked back over at the ex-boxer. "What is it, Lawn Head? Obviously wasn't something important enough to pay attention to," he sneered.

"That look's extreme, dude. Makes me want to punch your face," Ryohei scoffed. "_I said _that I didn't have much money on me so that's probably why they didn't talk... or why I didn't get robbed. And you know, 'cause I'm an extreme cop."

Hayato scoffed. "Extreme my ass. You're fucking annoying, that's why they didn't speak to you. Had it been me, I would've gotten answers." He dropped the cigarette into the hours old coffee and listened to the embers fizzle in the liquid.

"You wouldn't have gotten anywhere, dick face. The yakuza want you dead, you probably wouldn't have been able to step a foot in Sakura Town without having it blown off to the extreme."

Hayato made a face and refused to embark on yet another spree of insults towards the turf headed loud mouth. "If there is some guy like that in the red light district, he's probably just some freak doing cosplay. You know how those types get, they're fucking weird. And hey, some of the women down there like that sort of shit," Hayato remarked, pushing Ryohei's feet off his desk _again._

Ryohei pouted. "Your attitude sucks, man."

"Why? Because I don't want your fucking stupid feet on my desk?"

Ryohei ignored Hayato and arrogantly put his feet back on Hayato's desk. "Why don't you make me a bet? Let's go talk to my informant again and we'll head down to Sakura Town and we'll see how far _you _get."

Hayato snorted. "A bet? Haven't you learned anything from making bets with me?"

Ryohei put his feet down and leaned over the desk. "What? I'm a man, I can take it. One of these days, I'll win to the extreme."

"The last you lost to me, you ended up wearing one of those fucking Sailor Moon outfits into the precinct. Everyone thought it was a riot and you cried like the little

Mahō shōjo you were." Hayato let out a sardonic laugh. "You think you can handle worse?"

Ryohei laughed nervously and shrugged. "That was nothing, those were extreme tears of joy when I saw how happy I made everyone."

Hayato guffawed loudly, receiving dirty looks from the officers that were _actually_ working. He knew most of the unis hated him. It was because he was good at his job and he was well... a bit of an asshole, but he wasn't here to impress those fuckers. He only served the Tenth and only cared about his opinion.

"Fine, you're on, Lawn Head. Go talk to Hibari and find out why the fuck the fingerprint scans and DNA results are taking so goddamned long. I've got to speak to the Tenth."

"See," Ryohei said, standing and pointing a finger in Hayato's face. "That's another person that thinks I'm awesome to the extreme."

Hayato also stood, adjusting his black button up shirt and flicking up its collar. "Che, just because you haven't gotten a tonfa to your face doesn't mean Hibari likes you. Hibari doesn't like _anyone _except that fucking annoying yellow canary."

Ryohei laughed, waving a lethargic hand as he walked away. "Whatever man, if that's what you gotta tell yourself to get over your jealousy of me then alright, believe it."

Hayato rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot."

After watching Ryohei leave the pen - which is what they called the utterly cramped space all their desks were crammed together in, basically rubbing elbows with the next guy because the city didn't have enough money in their budget for a larger precinct (but they did have money for the corrupt politicians to get their rocks off or snort the rocks up their noses or both) - Hayato dragged himself up the stairs to the second floor where his boss's office was located and when he reached the door, he drew in a deep breath.

It wasn't that he was scared of their boss, Tsuna was a kind and gentle man - which made him so amazing at his job - but Hayato really hated to let him down. By the look of it, Hayato didn't have any information to offer Tsuna about this new case except now that there were three victims, all with the same MO, the city of Namimori Middle was dealing with a serial killer.

Hayato exhaled and knocked sharply on the door.

"Come in," a kind, yet stern voice invited.

Hayato opened the door and stepped into his boss's office only to be greeted with a warm smile. "Ah, Gokudera-kun. Good morning."

'Gokudera-kun' was what Tsuna had called him all through school and the name just became so familiar, it was more of an honor for Tsuna to refer to him with that fond nickname rather than his given name, in Hayato's opinion.

"Good morning, Tenth! How was your evening?"

Tsuna had gotten used to Hayato calling him the "Tenth" throughout the years as well, though he always believed that Hayato was too formal in the way he addressed him and always urged him to call him by his given name, to which Hayato would always disagree. He held a high amount of respect for the smaller, wide-eyed man in front of him and it just wouldn't feel right to address him in any other fashion.

"My evening was... productive," Tsuna said with a chuckle. "I was up most of the night reviewing our budget. I really hate number crunching."

Hayato stepped into the office and took a seat in a chair opposite Tsuna's desk. "Would you like me to take a look? Math is my specialty," he beamed.

Tsuna chuckled once more, his bright chocolate brown eyes dancing with mirth despite the heavy burden of the city's corruption on his shoulders. "Thanks, Gokudera-kun, but I know you have enough on your plate already. Where are we in that new case that's now what - three homicides?"

Hayato frowned. He hated to be the one to wipe the broad smile of his boss's face. "So far we haven't gotten any leads and the CSU* has run into a few issues with comparing fingerprints and DNA to my understanding. We're nowhere close to identifying the bodies or the perpetrator. I'm terribly sorry, Tenth."

Tsuna sighed but with understanding. "Gokudera-kun, you haven't failed me yet. Sometimes these things take time. I'll order the lab to rush the results of anything pertaining to this case and I'll add a few more uniformed officers to patrol the streets. It'll stretch the budget thin, but I'm sure we'll manage. It'll be worth it if we can get this guy off the streets before the city is in a panicked uproar."

"Yes, Tenth but -"

Tsuna waved a dismissive hand and smiled. "Don't beat yourself up over this case, Gokudera-kun. You are amazing at what you do, your skills in deduction are remarkable. I'm sure you will figure out something soon. Just take your time... but not too much time," he said with a laugh.

Hayato beamed. It was always so nice to hear such words of endearment come from the Tenth, because Hayato had never received praise from anyone in his life and to have such a man compliment him in such a way made a warmth spread across his chest and his heart swell with pride. Tsuna was the only person Hayato has ever felt this way about and that was because he owed this man his life and for everything he had become.

"Thank you, Tenth... I will give Lawn Head-"

"Sasagawa-san," Tsuna corrected.

"-a call and see where he is with Hibari and the lab results."

Tsuna gave another warm smile. The two ridiculous nicknames Ryohei and Hayato had for each other stemmed back from when they were in school and referred to their style of hair. Because of Hayato's insecurity and his suspicious nature and because of Ryohei's competitive and enthusiastic nature they often created a constant and unnecessary rivalry between each other. And because of their equally short tempers, it resulted in them arguing and fighting which had Tsuna always separating the two. It was a gamble to partner them together when they came to work under Tsuna as detectives but despite their bickering, Tsuna knew they worked well together and that they'd have each other's backs at all times.

"Alright. I wish you good luck with that, Gokudera-kun. Please let me know what you come up with. Oh - that reminds me... How did Sasagawa-san's lead pan out yesterday?"

Hayato scoffed. "The useless idiot came up with nothing. However, I'm accompanying him to Sakura Town this afternoon for a follow up, just to be sure."

"Oh, okay then. Be careful down there, especially after dark," Tsuna warned. "But... I'm sorry, but I really must get back to my paperwork," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Sorry, Tenth, please excuse me. I'll get going now. If you ever need a hand with those numbers, please don't hesitate to ask me." Hayato rose from his seat and headed for the door.

"I will, Gokudera-kun. Thank you."

"Always a pleasure, Tenth."

* * *

Hayato sat at a bar later that night, swirling his ice cubes around in his whiskey tumbler and staring at them as if they would suddenly reveal the world's most greatest kept secret. His abandoned cigarette burned in the ashtray beside the hand that held the tumbler.

Seeng his boss so distraught was unnerving. He hated that he depended on Hayato and Hayato was doing nothing but letting him down. The tenth would never tell him that, he was too modest and never blamed anything on his friends but it didn't change the fact that Hayato felt that he was failing him. On days - or nights, rather - like these, Hayato always found himself drowning his anguish in a heady bottle of whiskey. Maybe two. Sometimes the alcohol, believe it or not, gave Hayato a clearer mind allowing him to work his logical brain over facts and clues that would help him solve a case. Except this time there wasn't any clues, no leads and nothing to go by and he fucking hated it.

After travelling to Sakura Town, which had a different name entirely but that's what the beat cops called it for the beautiful women who roamed the night for a man's pleasure and wallets, Hayato and Ryohei came up empty, just like before. Every one of the people they interviewed remained tight lipped, though Hayato could see troubling fear in their eyes. Something had them nervous, something had caused less thugs and less women crowding the streets out of terror. If only Hayato could figure out why, perhaps the issue was connected to the murders because surely, it wasn't the murders that had the people of Sakura Town afraid. Things like that happened there frequently.

Picking up the cast away cigarette just before it reached the invisible line of a non existent filter, Hayato took a long and thoughtful drag.

Perhaps the bodies and Sakura Town were somehow related. Hayato recalled the precise patches of skin that had been removed in odd, yet strategic places on each of the three bodies. Hayato had believed it to be just torture, this killer was really twisted, but now - what if they were removed to _hide_ something? Something like... identity, just how the heads had been taken. And Hibari's results had come back inconclusive, the fingerprints run through AFIS* had been too damaged for even the partials to draw results.

So clearly, the killer was trying hard not have the identities of these victims discovered. But why? Perhaps knowing the IDs of the men that had been sliced and diced would lead Hayato to the killer.

Finishing the last bit of whiskey in his glass, Hayato stood and scanned the bar for his next target. He didn't have to know their name, all that mattered was if he was attracted to them.

Random one night stands may be reckless but it was the best stress reliever in Hayato's eyes.

He spotted the person that had been burning holes in his back all night. He walked over to them and grabbed their wrist, grinning devilishly. He leaned in close and put his mouth on his target's earlobe.

"You're coming with me," he whispered harshly and it wasn't to his surprise when they didn't hesitate to follow him out of the bar and to the nearest motel.

* * *

Hayato eased out of his nameless partner and pulled off the used condom, tying it off and tossing it to the motel's dirty orange shagged carpet. He walked over to the left side of the bed where he reached for his jeans to pull out the crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.

As he lit one, he heard his target shift behind him and let out a sated sigh. He almost cringes at the after thought of his act because now he's starting to sober up and he realizes that fucking random patrons from the bars he inhabits is really a stupid idea. It's stupid because Hayato is always playing with fire, he's a cop with a lot of enemies and anyone can take this opportunity, when is guard is slightly lowered, to kill him. Or injure him. Or rob him. Or - could possibly be an UMA from another planet, sent to Earth to seduce and abduct him so that they may later probe him for experimental reasons.

He may be a logical man, but he believes there _is _other life out there, but that's something he keeps to himself. He wouldn't be taken serious as cop if everyone knew he believed in aliens, amongst other creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.

It's stupid and he's an idiot, maybe even a bit of a bastard - no, he _is _a bastard - because he knows that sometimes he's the one that's hurting the other, because maybe to them there's feelings involved but Hayato is too selfish to care. He has never known love, therefore he's unable to convey any emotions that may pertain to it.

He felt an arm curl around his waist as he heard his phone vibrate in the pocket of his jeans, just as he was about to pull them on.

He swatted the arm away and answered his phone.

"Gokudera," he answered, clearing his throat. He listened intently to the dispatcher on the other line and felt fingers creep across his thigh. He swatted the hand away, angrily this time and an annoyed growl started low in his throat.

"Alright, I'll be right there," he said, hanging up the phone. He crushed his cigarette out on the bedside table and hurriedly got dressed.

"Leaving so soon?" came a voice from the bed.

"I've got shit to do," Hayato said with a cold shrug. He pulled out his wallet and ruffled through the wad of bills. He threw a good twenty-five thousand yen on the bedside table and headed for the door.

"Thanks for your services," he said curtly.

"Hey! I'm not a prostitute, I don't need your money, asshole. I just... wanted to cuddle."

Hayato had to stifle a laugh but it came out a scoff anyway. "Tch, dumbass. Cuddling is for lovers, not conveniences." And with that he walked out of the motel room without a backwards glance, got into his car and headed to the next crime scene of the serial killer's newest victim.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

*** "AFIS" - Automated Fingerprint Identification System, used for identifying fingerprints**


	3. Book I : My Saint : Chapter III

**_Chapter III_**

* * *

"Yo, Octopus Head! You made it and you're only a little bit drunk this time," Ryōhei said with a smack to the back of Hayato's head.

Hayato shot him a glare hot enough to melt metal and punched him in the arm. "Will you shut the fuck up, Lawn Head? How about you tell me what's going on since you seem to be in such a talkative fucking mood," he grumbled.

"Welp, it's just like the last three. Missing head, missing skin, lacerations to the arms and torso. This bastard is one messed up sicko to the extreme. Only thing that's different are the abrasions on the guy's knuckles. Looks like this one actually put up a fight."

Hayato nodded and stared at the lifeless body with a ragged stump of a neck and a bloody mess, except there was no blood here at the scene. "Have the CSU swabbed the cuts for DNA and skin cells yet?"

"Yeah. Hey... why do you think the killer crosses their arms when he dumps them?" Ryohei asked, nodding to the body that had yet to be covered.

Hayato shrugged. "Maybe it's for remorse of some sort? Or maybe a mythological thing?"

"Myth-o-what?"

"_Mythological_, air head. You know, like in ancient Greek mythology?"

"No, I don't know anything about that shit. You're the nerd."

Hayato snorted. "I'm not a nerd, you asshole. I just know things, it's called _intelligence_. Something you clearly lack."

Ryohei frowned. "I resent that to the extreme."

"Like I care."

"Well... are you going to tell me what you're talking about, or am I going to have to listen to another ten minutes of you stroking your overly extreme ego and insulting my intelligence?"

"I'm not insulting your intelligence if you don't have any to begin with," Hayato said with a smirk.

"You want me to punch you now or later?"

"Alright, fuck. Just shut up and _try_ to retain the information you're about to learn."

Ryohei scowled. "Go on."

"In Greek mythology, there's the River Styx in which the dead travel along to reach Hades, the Greek Underworld. It's believed that the ferryman, Charon, accepts a toll to allow the soul to pass through the river to one of the entrances of the Underworld. If the soul could not pay the ferryman, then they would be denied entrance forever bound in Purgatory. When the Greek buried their dead, they would cross the arms of their beloved to prepare for the narrow ferry and place a coin within their mouths to pay the toll... My guess is the killer's gesture is akin to the Greek myth, except there's no head for a coin to be placed in the mouth, no coins placed anywhere on the bodies, leaving no toll for the ferryman but preparing the body for the ride nevertheless." Hayato looked over at Ryohei to see if he had absorbed any of what he had said but the dumbstruck look on his face told Hayato he had no fucking clue.

"So... uh... what does that mean?" Ryohei asked, playing off like he understood it all.

Hayato rolled his eyes. "It means that the killer doesn't want these souls to pass through the Underworld, that they don't deserve a place to rest."

"Well, you don't actually believe that shit, do you?"

"Of course I don't. It doesn't mean the killer doesn't. This is like his signature, a message he's trying to convey."

"What is that message?"

Hayato sighed. "Honestly, how did you become a detective again?"

"Because I'm extreme."

Hayato rolled his eyes.

"You know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that, one day they're gonna roll right outta your head," Ryohei said pointedly, crossing his arms and scowling.

"Anyways, the message is something we have yet to figure out. What it means _exactly_. I have a feeling that once we figure out the ID's of the bodies, we'll know a whole hell of a lot more about this guy." Hayato looked over the body once more and noticed a small tattoo marking on the inside left ankle of the shoe and sockless male victim.

"Hey - did you see this?" he asked his partner.

Ryohei looked over at him quizzically. "See what?"

"This." Hayato bent down and pointed to the small tattoo, which looked like a sideways diamond with some sort of kanji written in the center, possibly a gang insignia.

"Huh... no, I didn't. Did the CSU?"

"Obviously not, retard, or they would have told us about it. Hey you," Hayato called to one of the CSU technicians who was photographing the surrounding area of the crime scene."Give me a glove."

The lab tech walked briskly over to Hayato and pulled a fresh latex glove from his kit. "Find something, Gokudera-san?"

"Mm, I think so," he mused, slipping on the glove and turning the ankle over to get a better look. "Ah... this is the kanji for... destruction?"

The technician looked over Hayato's shoulder. "Yes sir, I believe so."

"Destruction... destruction... Hey, Lawn Head... isn't there a yakuza gang by the name of _Hakai Dīrā _that runs rampant in Sakura Town?"

Ryohei furrowed his brow in deep thought and then his eyes were wide with recognition. He nodded enthusiastically. "Octopus Head! Do you know what this means? My informant was _right_."

"Photograph this, will you?" Hayato asked the technician.

"Yes sir." The CSU tech began snapping pictures of the tattoo.

"It doesn't mean anything, yet, Lawn Head. Definitely doesn't mean your informant was right about anything. This guy may have ties to the yakuza, he may not. If he does, he's fairly new. The physique of the body looks to be maybe in the early to mid twenties and there isn't enough tattoos to suggest he's been with the gang for very long. Tomakazu and his underlings are pretty tatted up. But... it doesn't mean that Sakura Town is connected. Not yet, anyway." Hayato could feel a surge of excitement. "Nevertheless, this is our first lead. Fuck, finally. I'm going to go back to the station and run the names of the gang members and see what I can come up with."

"Alright well, you don't need me there to hold your hand to the extreme, do you?"

Hayato glowered at him. "Fuck no, you'll only annoy the shit out of me."

Ryohei grinned. "Good, 'cause I got a bed callin' my name. Have fun, Octopus Head."

Hayato waved a dismissive hand at his partner and studied the exposed flesh of the corpse for more clues as Ryohei left the crime scene. He was looking for anymore markings the killer may have missed. Somehow, this victim was different from the rest.

"Hahi! Gokudera-saan!" came a shrill voice of an annoying woman.

Hayato palmed his face and growled. Fuck, just what he needed. He stood and turned and called out to a uniformed officer. "Oi, you! Don't let that stupid woman beyond the tape!"

"But Gokudera-san, I've got some questions for you on the city's recent homicides!" she called, waving her hand. She bent down and went under the cautionary yellow tape that closed off the crime scene.

"Oi, what the fuck?!" Hayato shouted at the officer. He shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry, sir! She's got a police issued press pass."

Hayato growled again and marched over to the reporter before she could get closer to the body. "Who the hell would give you that kind of clearance?"

The reporter, whose name was Haru Miura, practically bounced over to him with a smug smile plastered to her face. "Tsuna-san did!"

"Don't call the Tenth's name with such familiarity, you stupid woman. What the hell do you want, you're invading my work space."

"I," she began, jabbing a thumb at her chest, "have received the go ahead from Tsuna-san to write a piece on this case. He told me to talk to you."

Hayato walked away from the body, dragging Haru with him. "The Tenth would never allow this,' he said in a hushed voice, albeit angrily. "How did you manage to convince him, you swine?"

"Gokudera-san! You don't have to be so rude! Tsuna-san gave me some restrictions, but as editor in chief of the Namimori Middle Gazette, it is my duty to inform the people of what's newsworthy in our city!"

"Che, you ignorant pest! Just how do you figure four people being murdered is newsworthy? It will only create hysteria, is that what you want?"

"So it's now four murders?"

"_Shit_," Hayato hissed.

She grinned triumphantly. "Oh! There's someone I want you to meet! He's a sort of apprentice of mine, so he'll be working with me on this story."

"Oh great, more meddlesome annoyances," Hayato mumbled.

Haru turned back at the crowd that had started to form and waved a hand. "Yamamoto-san! Quick, come here!"

There was movement in the crowd and Hayato couldn't see past the officers who had gone stop an oncoming intruder. They looked back at Hayato for permission. Hayato sighed frustratingly and motioned his hand to allow the other reporter. He fished in his jeans pocket for his cigarette pack, pulled one out and lit it. By this time, the other reporter had arrived at Haru's side.

Hayato looked up from his cupped hands, formed around the flame of his lighter and instantly stilled. His breath seemed to have hitched in his throat.

"Gokudera-san, this is my newest Feature and Factual news reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi," Haru beamed, gesturing an offering hand at the man beside her.

Yamamoto Takeshi was a tall, olive skinned man with a long and lean build, looking like it had been sculpted through years of athleticism. He had raven black hair, short and sharp; but tousled and messily brushed upward. He wore square framed glasses that were thick and black and behind the lenses were large, almond shaped eyes that were caramel and chartreuse in colour, brighter and clearer than any hazel eyes Hayato had ever seen. He stood with an innocent yet confident posture, in a casual plaid over shirt and navy blue jeans. He had a camera hung around his neck and it's bag slung over his shoulder and chest, to which he clutched the strap of.

He offered his free hand -a large and slightly calloused hand- and smiled broadly, his eyes closing with the upwards movement of his cheeks in his blinding grin. "Hey! It's great to finally meet you, Gokudera-san!"

Hayato didn't understand it but there was a sudden flutter in the pit of his stomach, almost akin to anxiousness but not unease. He wasn't sure what to call it but he could certainly say he had never felt it before. His heart had quickened in pace and he realized he had forgotten to breathe. He didn't take the Japanese reporter's hand but thought he knew him from somewhere, he looked somewhat familiar. With a second of thought, he remembered. "Oi, aren't you a fucking sports columnist?"

Yamamoto withdrew his hand quickly, tossing it behind his head to rub at the back of his neck. "Oh, haha. Yeah, I used to be," he said sheepishly but still grinning. "But I mostly just covered baseball. Say, do you like baseball?"

Hayato snorted and took a drag of his cigarette. "As if. I don't follow sports."

"Haha, I see. I just thought you did because you knew who I was."

"Che. I have to pass your stupid mug plastered on that page to get to my Sudoku. And don't flatter yourself, I don't know nor care who you are. And frankly, if you're associating yourself with this woman," he pointed an accusing finger at Haru,"then you're going to be nothing but a nuisance to me."

"Gokudera-san!" Haru scolded. "My, you have such a foul temper! I honestly don't know how Tsuna-san can have someone like you working for him, you act as if the people of Namimori Middle are such an inconvenience to you!"

"Goddammit, woman! Do you always need to be so loud?! I don't need the entire fucking world to know what we're talking about here. And also, don't act as if you know what the Tenth is thinking! Or doing for that matter! In fact, you should just stay away from him-"

"I'm going to get you kicked off the force for your rudeness towards the people!" Haru interrupted.

Hayato threw down his cigarette and took a step towards the small framed, short haired woman with dark eyes as wide as saucers. "Don't you threaten me-"

"Ma, ma," Yamamoto laughed, intercepting Hayato before he could advance any further. "Let's try to calm down, ne?" He hesitantly lowered Hayato's raised fist, aimed for Haru, smiling kindly and seemingly not bothered about invading one's personal space or touching them, for that matter.

And when Hayato realized the man had touched him, he was instantly grounded by the soft brush of Yamamoto's fingertips as they left his arm, sending a sharp tingle down his spine and a wave of goose fleshed skin. He took an instinctive and wary step back, scowling to hide the sudden heat he felt in his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Are we done here, Miura? Because I've got work to do," Hayato spat angrily.

"Hmph." Haru crossed her arms and turned her back on him. "_I'm _done here. Deal with him please, Yamamoto-san," she demanded haughtily. She stomped back towards the yellow tape without looking back.

"Haha, sorry," Yamamoto said, clearly embarrassed. "You two don't seem to get along too well."

"Che, no shit. Do you state the news the way you state the obvious?"

Yamamoto cocked his head with a smile. "Huh?"

_Am I surrounded by idiots? _"Never mind," he said with an aggravated sigh. "Look, it's late and unlike you people, I have an actual job to do. Are you going to ask me your dumb questions so I can get on with it?"

Yamamoto laughed and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Right, right! Uh, can we go somewhere that's not here? Crime scenes still make me a little bit queasy."

"And yet you switched careers to follow factual news. What an idiot," Hayato scoffed. "Yeah, you can buy me a coffee and I'll answer your annoying questions - but don't make this a fucking habit, I'm only doing this at the request of my boss."

Hayato noticed the man practically jumped at the suggestion or maybe it was just the eagerness of his first story, but he was starting to become annoyed at the man's overly cheerful attitude.

* * *

Hayato wrapped his chilled hands around the steaming ceramic mug that held the aromatic black liquid that next to cigarettes was his favourite addiction. He watched impatiently as the clumsy looking man - whose smile alone made him look ten years younger and immature - rifle through his camera bag for items Hayato had already deemed unnecessary for this interview.

Finally, with a "Aha, I found it!", he pulled out a black, rectangular device and set it on the table. He looked at Hayato through the lenses of his glasses with glee and flashed a face splitting grin. "Mind if I record you?"

Hayato rolled his eyes and looked out the window at the freshly rising sun, it's orange glow forming a crescent shaped halo over the mountains beyond Namimori and soft tufts of pink rippled through the sky like cotton candy. "If you must," he said tiredly.

They sat in a small coffee shop just down the street from the precinct where Hayato frequented often, so often they knew him by name and preference.

"Great!" Yamamoto said with such enthusiasm it put Ryohei's to shame. He clicked a button on the side of the recorder and spoke promptly and professionally. He said his name, the date and who he was interviewing, which was something Hayato was familiar with since they followed a similar protocol for interrogations. To which he then thought this was more like an interrogation than an interview anyways.

"So, Gokudera-san... may I call you that?"

"Gokudera is fine," Hayato replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Haha, okay, Gokudera. Let's begin."

"Yes, let's. As I've said I have work to do."

"Is it true that there has been four murders in less than three weeks here in Namimori Middle?"

"Yes."

"And is it true that the victims have all been male?"

"Yes."

"Gokudera, would you say that this is the work of a serial killer?"

"I cannot say at this time, Yamamoto-san."

"Haha, Yamamoto is just fine too," he said with a smile and pushed the glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

Hayato was becoming more agitated by the minute. This guy laughed at everything. Did he really find murder this amusing? "Alright, baseball idiot."

"Haha, good one, Gokudera! It's because I used to write about baseball huh... I don't really get the idiot part -"

Hayato glared at him and set his cup down loudly on the table.

Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Anyway, let's get back to the questions. Have you any leads or suspects in mind?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the leads nor suspects we may have." One more sip of the coffee.

"I see. So does that mean your department is incapable of catching this killer?"

Hayato set the mug down hard on the Formica table top that separated himself and the reporter, making a loud and hollow clanking sound. He narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth. "Are you implying my department is incompetent? Too incompetent to clean up this shit town of it's political corruption and rotten villainy and misconduct that spreads this place like a fucking malignant cancer? Are you implying that my boss isn't working his fucking ass off to bring this god forsaken shithole back up to a reputable city? Are you, Yamamoto-_san_?"

Yamamoto's smile quickly faded and was replaced with a gaping mouth and brows knit in frantic worry. He raised his hands defensively. "Oh no, I didn't mean that, really! I-uh, Miura-san asked me to memorize these questions just in case I needed to do the interview. That's not my impression of Sawada Tsunayoshi at all! I-I apologize, Gokudera... I didn't mean to offend you." He frowned and lowered his head and hands, his eyes now focused on his fidgeting fingers.

Hayato took in a breath and exhaled it. His heart began to beat a little slower and the adrenaline he had felt coursing through his veins began to dissipate. He couldn't help but feel his quick cool down had something to do with the reporter who seemed too young and innocent to be into this kind of harsh reality that was this side of the world, _Hayato's_ side of the world. Looking at him now seemed to remind Hayato that not all people were like the scum he dealt with on a daily basis. That there were people out there that were just earnest, to green and naïve to know anything outside their perfect little bubbles but Hayato wouldn't have it any other way. It was simply because his boss was that type of man, less naïve than he had been in middle school, but certainly the same kind of man that was sitting here in front of him, looking defeated and upset.

Hayato let out another sigh, this time it was more out of exhaustion than anything else. "Look," he started, "we're doing all that we can to exhaust all efforts into apprehending this murderer. The people of Namimori shouldn't worry for they are under the care of a great man who will work his absolute _hardest _to bring this bastard to justice for his heinous crimes."

Yamamoto pushed his glasses back onto his nose and smiled. "That's an amazing thing to say, Gokudera. Can I quote you on that?"

Hayato's stomach began to flutter again and he suddenly wished desperately for a cigarette. "Yeah, whatever," he snapped. "Are we done here now? I haven't slept in over twenty four hours and -" He clamped his mouth shut. Why was he ranting to a complete stranger about his sleeping habits?

Yamamoto clicked the button on the side of the recorder again and nodded. "Yeah, I think I've gotten enough. I'm sorry for keeping you, Gokudera, but it was really nice to meet you," he said with a white, toothy grin.

Hayato felt a sudden seize of his chest. He really needed to get some rest, being up for twenty four hours, at least, and then all the stress on top of it - not too mention being mildly drunk just a few hours prior.

Yamamto Takeshi stood, adjusting the camera case at his hip and smiled one last time before leaving the coffee shop. "Have a good day, Gokudera! I hope we can talk again sometime soon." He boldly placed a hand on Hayato's shoulder and leaned in as he had said that and Hayato almost didn't register the words he had said because he had been too focused on the close proximity of their faces. That ultra bright smile had him blinded and the warmth of his large, clumsy hand on his shoulder had him reeling and for a minute he caught himself closing his eyes and inhaling the freshly clean and soapy sent of the reporter. And before he knew it, he felt a cold shock to his shoulder where the reporter's hand had been and when his eyes flew open in realization, Yamamoto Takeshi was already gone.


	4. Book I : My Saint : Chapter IV

**_Chapter IV_**

* * *

Now at the station, Hayato pulled out the individual case files for each murder that has occurred with the same M.O in the last month. There were only four victims, yesterday's being the most recent and he couldn't do much with that until he got the lab results back.

However, he was left with a clue. A simple mistake left by this calculated killer.

Looking back at the photographs taken of each body and the coroner's report, Hayato noted that the sections of skin removed from the bodies in sporadic areas were not at all irregular torture like he had assumed. It was now after seeing the _Hakai _insignia on the inside ankle of the latest victim he understood the reasoning behind the missing flesh.

It was to cover up who these men were, but it wasn't because the killer wanted their identities to go unknown to the police and the public.

It was to erase their very existence.

That's why he removed their heads, nicked all their hands and fingertips beyond recognition and lastly, removing any other characteristic that would give them a name.

Hayato had just made a major break in the case. Being able to profile a killer took skill and being able to profile a killer meant that he's just narrowed down the field of suspects. This killer was most likely an organized offender. In Hayato's mind, it's all ready made up but criminal profiling is always a maybe; always just following simple outlines. Serial killers can be rather complex and this one had started to prove that theory, but now Hayato is pretty sure he's got him figured out.

Now all he needed was motive.

The chatter of officers and the ringing of phones was starting to grate on Hayato's already sleep deprived brain and for a quick second, he became distracted with a face that flashed through his memory.

A face with bright hazel eyes behind thick framed glasses and a mouth with full lips spread upwards into a wide grin.

Hayato groaned and rubbed his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to erase the face -_that_ _smile - _that's been haunting him since he left the coffee shop five hours ago.

It didn't work.

_Fuck. _

He couldn't concentrate like this, all these people and all this unnecessary buzz of noise were annoying him; making him wish he had some sort of explosive to use to get them all to permanently shut up. He _really _needed his own office.

And a cigarette.

Gathering up his notes and the photographs, he slipped his glasses into his button up shirt pocket and headed for the roof. It was the only place he knew he could get relative silence and a smoke at the same time.

He went up the stairs to the fire escape. He let the heavy door slam behind him and took in a deep breath. Tucking the folders and files under his arm, he reached into his jeans and pulled out his cigarettes. He cupped the flame from the lighter and pulled in a long drag when it was lit. Exhaling, he moved away from the door and sat on the flat asphalt roof, surveying the sky line. There weren't many high rises in Namimori Middle, not like Tokyo by any means, but the ever present drone of sirens and traffic made it sound more like a bustling concrete jungle than a mere city.

For a quick second, he lay down on the rooftop, allowing the warm sun to soak into his skin. He closed his eyes and puffed on his cigarette and tried to think.

The informant of Ryohei's was an ex boxer too, except he had quit because he preferred heroin coursing through his veins rather than adrenaline but he still hung around the gym Ryohei used to train at. Hayato also knew he got his drugs from the _Hakai Dīrā_, which put him in Sakura Town and could validate his information. But Hayato and Ryohei weren't getting anywhere with the people in Sakura Town and they had three other victims unaccounted for. What he needed to do was find a low on the food chain _Hakai _thug and shake him down for some answers and see if there were any more missing members. Judging by the size and location of the tattoo on the most recent victim, he wasn't an important member or a newer one.

A sharp slam of a heavy door jarred him out of his thoughts.

"Gokudera-kun?"

Hayato jerked his head up and was greeted with Tsuna's warm chocolate brown eyes.

"T-Tenth... good morning."

"Good morning." He smiled, then frowned. "But it looks like you haven't slept. Have you?"

"Please don't worry about me, I'm really quite alright."

Tsuna opened his mouth to say something but then Hayato jumped up from his laying position with animated excitement.

"Oh! I think I might have found a break in the case!"

Tsuna stepped back and grinned, his eyes lighting up with confidence. "Really? That's great! What did you find?"

"Last night's victim is a member of a yakuza gang in Sakura Town, _Hakai Dīrā_. Since there are no missing patches of skin on this one, I'm lead to believe the killer missed the small tattoo on the inside of the man's ankle. I haven't made an ID just yet, the computer is searching out records for any offenders matching that description."

"Wow, that's amazing, Gokudera-kun!"

Hayato laughed uncomfortably. "Not really, Tenth... It was thanks to the killer's mistake that I managed to find this clue."

"I suppose," Tsuna mused. "But you're still an amazing detective. I know you say not to worry about you but I do. As your boss _and _your friend and I can tell you haven't been sleeping... not to mention the other things I'd rather _not _mention." He eyed Hayato knowingly.

Hayato felt his face get hot. "Sorry, Tenth..."

"It's fine, it isn't my business what you do outside work as long as you don't bring it here. Though you've come up with this information impressively, go home and rest. Let Sasagawa-san handle the case."

"But... Tenth... "

Tsuna shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gokudera-kun but this is non negotiable. It's a direct order from your boss. Go home and sleep and let your partner handle the rest. He wouldn't be a detective if I didn't think he was capable. Right?"

Hayato sighed. He had failed the tenth again, this time shaming him. "Yes, of course... My apologies."

Tsuna laughed and put a hand on Hayato's shoulder. "You don't have to say that, just go home and go to sleep. I'll fill in Sasagawa-san when he returns from the lab."

Hayato crushed his cigarette under his heel and bent down till retrieve his notes.

"I'll take those," Tsuna said with a smile.

"Tenth... "

"Gokudera-kun, you're so stubborn sometimes," Tsuna remarked endearingly. "It'll be alright, you'll need something for Sasagawa-san to look over so he can run with your theories, no?"

Hayato gave a weak smile and nodded. "As expected of the Tenth. I'll be on my way then. I hope you enjoy your day."

Tsuna smiled and squeezed Hayato's shoulder. "We'll call you if there's any news."

"Thank you, Tenth."

Hayato followed Tsuna back into the precinct and left him at the bottom of the stairs with a wave goodbye. Though he was anxious to get started on this new lead, he was relieved to be going home to sleep.

He lived a short drive from the station, about ten minutes to be exact. He parked his car in the driveway, checked the mail and fumbled for his keys. He walked through his door and threw the mail on the console table by the closet. His first destination was the shower.

Stepping into the dimly lit bathroom, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. One of his favourite features about himself was his hair. It was like a namesake, one of the few things he had left of his mother's and he prided himself on keeping it trim, cut so it fell in layers around his face and framed his slender neck. His sister often commented on how similar the cut was to his uncle's, the only real father figure Hayato had ever really had. They were they only ones who knew his location in Japan and didn't visit him often, which was a relief.

Except now his hair was looking dull, probably from a lack of nutrients in his diet because this case had him living on edge. Even his vibrant green eyes were lackluster, only standing out because of the dark bags encircling them. He grimaced, he hated how strung out he looked. Hayato was a man that prided himself not only on his mind but on his looks too. He was a rather vain and conceited kind of man with bad etiquette and a worse temper and the only person that didn't get that side of him was Tsuna.

He turned on the faucet and tested the water before turning on the shower head. Then he stripped out of his day old clothes and stepped into the bath, letting the almost scalding water patter on his skin and bleed the stress out of his aching muscles. The steam had a lulling effect as it engulfed him and Hayato found his mind drifting to the obnoxious reporter and his brilliant smile.

Hayato had never told anyone about his sexual preferences, not even Tsuna. He never really considered himself gay, he just figured with all the problems he had with the women in his past, namely his cruel stepmother and psychotic sister, it was no wonder he'd have an issue with the opposite sex. He did find men attractive, yes, but for Hayato it was a little more complex than that. Maybe even a little sadistic. There was something in preying on weaker men, being able to dominate them that turned him on. Maybe it was the need to feel superior to feed his preexisting ego or maybe it was to gain some control in his chaos that was his life. For Hayato, sex has never been about feelings and emotions, it's pure primitive instinct for him, the act of releasing pent up stress and frustration and it has _never _resulted in him feeling any more than just that.

So when he kept thinking of pounding the reporter hard into a mattress, or floor or against the wall, he could understand the primal want.

What he couldn't understand is why he _couldn't _stop thinking about these things, or that annoying laugh or the bright smile he flashed too many times unnecessarily.

He tried hard to focus on the case but all throughout his shower, brushing his teeth and getting dressed, he couldn't think about anything else. It was beginning to drive him mad, to the point where he actually began resenting the reporter _immensely_.

Hayato was tired enough to sleep but when he tried, it didn't come. His mind had too much thought traffic, mostly about fucking the reporter or blowing him up for relentlessly annoying the shit out of him. He thought over the case too, but he hadn't figured out anything he didn't already know.

He knew of only two ways to fix this problem and that would be to either get drunk or take some sleeping pills. Hayato was never one for medication, he believed in letting the body heal itself but being a cop and seeing what he saw on an almost daily basis, he often needed an aid when it came to being able to sleep.

He didn't want to get drunk either, he was a little tired of feeling like shit and after Tsuna had mentioned his 'other activities' he knew he had been talking about him getting drunk pretty much every night, and showing up reeking of alcohol was completely unprofessional and shameful to his boss.

So he opted for the sleeping pills, just because his mind was racing and he couldn't stop thinking. He downed them with a shot of whiskey though, even though he knows he shouldn't be mixing the two but Hayato is reckless, if not heedless.

He curled up in his bed, pulling the blankets over his head and waited for sleep to take him.

* * *

There was an annoying buzzing sound that seemed to get louder and louder and it annoyed the shit out of Hayato. He had been having a dreamless sleep that was too wonderful to wake out of except the stupid buzzing wouldn't stop. With a groan, he stuck his arm out from his warm cocoon to the bed side table and grabbed his vibrating cell phone off the surface. He didn't bother to check the number, the only time he ever got phone calls were from people at work.

"What?" he answered harshly.

_"We found a match, asshole. Get over to the station when you can." _

"Wh-what? A match? To the latest victim?"

_"Yeah, that's what I said."_

"Well who is it?"

_"You're annoying to the extreme, Octopus Head. I'll tell you when you get here."_ Ryohei hung up and left Hayato with a growing agitation that no amount of sleep or alcohol could cure. But, going over the short conversation once more, he realized his curiosity trumped his irritability.

Hayato was intrigued. This could be the loose thread in the case and if he pulled hard enough at it, then hopefully it would unravel at the seams. He got out of bed and got dressed, choosing something a little more professional to wear to work since he had been so much of an embarrassment to the tenth lately. He settled on a dark red dress shirt and dark blue denims, slim the way he likes them with a thick black belt and large silver buckle, and a fitted black blazer. He brushed out his hair and replaced the small hoops he had in his left ear to small silver studs, barely even noticeable. He thought about removing some of the many rings he wore on his fingers but he just felt too naked without them.

When he was satisfied about his appearance, he left his house and drove to the station not even bothering to take a look at the time but judging from the sun hanging in the middle of the sky, it was almost evening. He hadn't gotten much sleep.

* * *

He walked into the station to find Ryohei sitting ever so nonchalantly at _his_ desk with his feet on _his _desk reading through a folder.

"Hey, Lawn Head, what the fuck? Don't you have your own desk to violate?"

Ryohei looked up. "Oh. It didn't take you as extremely long as I'd thought you'd be, with that fancy get up of yours. You take longer to get ready than a chick does, to the extreme."

"Fuck you," Hayato said with a smirk. "So, tell me who the victim is and stop wasting precious time, asshole."

"Right." Ryohei took his feet off the desk as Hayato sat in the chair opposite his desk, chugging down the coffee he had picked up on the way. "The victim's name is Ikeda Nosaru, age twenty-one. Born here in Namimori to deceased parents Ikeda Tsubasa and Ikeda Mizuki. He is a member of the_ Hakai_, became one two years ago after the death of his parents. He's already got an extreme rap sheet. Three counts of armed robbery, two counts of assault, pending assault with a deadly weapons charge - it's a wonder how the hell he was still out walking around."

Hayato snorted. "No it isn't, the yakuza has most of those lawyers and judges in their pockets. Question is, who keeps sticking their neck out for him? He seems like he was a lower class thug," Hayato mused looking through the file. "At least we know what he looks like. Was there a last known address, next of kin?"

Ryohei shook his head. "No family labeled in the reports but his last known address is an apartment above a ramen shop in Sakura Town."

"Well we should go there then and check it out. Something in his belongings might tell us who the killer is."

"Gokudera-kun?"

Hayato turned around to see his boss eyeing him suspiciously. "Hello again, Tenth," he said with a smile.

"I vaguely remember telling you to stay at home and sleep," Tsuna said with a smile, tapping his chin.

"Ah, but _I_ vaguely remember _you_ telling me if anything changes, you'll let me know, so that's why I'm here. Lawn Head-"

"Sasagawa-san," Tsuna interjected.

"- has an ID on our last victim."

"Really? That's great news!"

"Yeah, me and this guy are gonna go check out his apartment for clues to the extreme," Ryohei said.

"Actually, I just got off the phone with Haru, Gokudera-kun-"

"Ah shit," he groaned.

"And she told me about last night. Ah but, I don't hold it against you. I know how pushy she can be," Tsuna said with a laugh.

"As expected of the Tenth... thank you for understanding," Hayato replied with a smile.

Ryohei put his feet back on his desk. Hayato turned and glared at him while Ryohei smirked.

"Don't slack off in front of the Tenth, Lawn Head," he said through gritted teeth.

"Gokudera-kun, there is one favour you can do for me to make up the Haru incident from last night. If you don't mind," asked Tsuna.

"Of course, anything for you, Tenth."

"I have a live press conference for the six o'clock news to attend to - that's in half an hour. I would like if you could accompany me as the lead detective for this case."

"But I -"

"Sasagawa-san can handle the investigation for a little while, can't you?"

Ryohei nodded. "To the extreme."

Tsuna smiled. "I've already asked Hibari-san to aid you, on account of Gokudera-kun's absence but since he's returned, I'll have to borrow him again."

"You got it, boss."

Hayato sighed inwardly. Press conferences. How annoying. He'd have to see that stupid woman. God, he hated her.

* * *

Hayato had never really had stage fright, he didn't like people and their stupidity, but he didn't fear speaking in front of them or being in the spot light. He's done a few press conferences before and they're all the same. Too many flashing lights, too many annoying people and too many questions - even ones about his personal life. Sometimes it made him a little uncomfortable, to have all the eyes focused on him and sometimes he allowed his insecurities to draw up old memories of the eyes that had fallen on him once upon a time in Italy; full of judgment, disgust, hatred and pity. Nevertheless, he was a confident man and with the tenth by his side, he was even more sure of himself.

Except this conference was a little different.

Hayato was in the middle of answering a radio station emcee's question when he decided to take that time to scan the sea of faces beyond the microphones, recorders and flashing camera lights. And then his eyes fell... on _him_. And they locked with his, and for Hayato time stood still. For a short minute, it seemed Hayato and the reporter were the only two in the room.

The reporter with the sun kissed skin and wide smile; the reporter with the alluring hazel eyes behind such suitable stark frames; the reporter with the long and lean body that looked so fucking seductive pressed down in to a -

"Gokudera-san?"

Hayato tore his gaze away from Yamamoto, who sat back in his steel chair, arms crossed and thin brow arched amusingly. He wore a lazy grin this time, where only right side of his mouth curled up, his full lips looking so -

"Gokudera-kun?"

He blinked several times, even tried to shake the images flooding his head and fuck, he could feel the burning heat spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Hayato cleared his throat and looked over at Tsuna apologetically. "S-sorry," he said. He looked back out into the crowd, trying to find the emcee that had been asking him the questions. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?" he asked when he found him.

The emcee cocked his head quizzically. "Have any of the victims been identified yet? There's been a rumor going around that all the victims were mutilated beyond recognition."

Hayato needed to be careful here. He couldn't reveal that the killer had made a mistake just yet, because it would risk alerting him and causing him to be more cautious in his next kill. "We have decided not to release the identities of victims to the public just yet," he answered carefully.

"What about the mutilation?" asked the emcee.

"We cannot discuss details of an open murder investigation," Hayato replied.

"Is it true this is the work of a serial killer?" asked another reporter. She was female, with short wavy black hair.

"We have not established a pattern currently, nor a link between victims. It's still early and we have a lot of work ahead of us."

"But, do you really think you have the time?" asked the wavy haired reporter. "They've killed four people in such a short while. Can you really afford another body?"

"Well-"

"The Namimori police department is doing their best with the information and data they have recovered from each crime scene. They are dedicated officers that believe in protecting Namimori Middle District. True, we cannot afford another victim, nor a panic to rise from the people of this city but our officers are working hard to follow every lead we are given, every clue and suspect we are lead to. Now, if you'll excuse us, we must get back to solving this case, it is of the utmost importance to us. Thank you, that concludes this conference."

Hayato looked up at his boss as a slew of questions ensued. "Tenth..." he whispered under his breath. He had never felt so proud to call this man his best friend. Tsuna looked down at Hayato and smiled.

"Let's get out of here," he said with a laugh. "These questions are getting to be too much."

They walked out through City Hall and down the long stairway when Hayato heard a shrill voice that sent a jarring shiver up his spine.

"Tsuuuuuna-saaaaan!"

Hayato groaned. While he wanted to leave, he had to stay with the tenth and protect him from that vile woman.

"Ha-Haru!"

Haru Miura and Tsuna had lived on the same street when they were younger but Hayato didn't know much about her, just that she was annoying and bothered the tenth. A lot. Not that he ever said so, but Hayato found her to be a pest - his boss was just too nice to say anything.

He turned around after Tsuna to see Haru marching down the steps... and Yamamoto trailing behind her.

_Is this fucking guy her personal lackey or something? Fuck, why is he EVERYWHERE I go? _

Hayato couldn't begin to describe the growing impatience he had towards infuriating people today, especially ones with vexatious laughs that just painfully rang right through you.

"Haha, Gokudera! Nice to see you again! You were great in there!" Yamamoto said cheerfully, rubbing the back of his head.

"Che, it wasn't a performance, idiot."

"Gokudera-kun..."

"Tsuna-san, Haru would like a word with you regarding Gokudera-san's impolite and ill-mannered attitude! It really reflects on your department as a whole, you know!"

"You stupid woman, don't you dare insult the Tenth!" Hayato took a step forward to get between Haru and Tsuna.

"Gokudera-kun, really it's okay. Haru, I told you before, Gokudera-kun was just tired. This case has him overworked-"

"But Tsuna-san!"

"Don't interrupt the Tenth, you vile snake!"

"Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna was eyeing him pleadingly but it was so hard to keep a level head when Haru was around. Out of all the people Gokudera knew, she annoyed him the most. He's even had alcohol induced dreams where he's choked the life out of her. He would be lying if he said that while he'd never act on it outside of a dream state, feeling the air slip out of her throat beneath his fingers and watching the life die out of her eyes was actually gratifying. In fact, here he was, envisioning it again when Yamamoto intercepted.

"Ma ma, Gokudera... Miura-san, please... let's all try to calm down," Yamamoto said with a grin. He pushed the glasses up on his nose and adjusted the strap of the camera bag still slung around his shoulder.

Gokudera shot him a glare. "You..."

"Look, I will speak with Haru, Gokudera-kun. Why don't you take the evening off and continue your rest?"

"Tenth... about the case..."

"Sasagawa-san and Hibari-san are doing all that can be done right now. Please, I insist."

"If the tenth insists..." Hayato sighed.

"Gokudera, I know this really great place, we could go get a drink there. Would you like to come?" asked Yamamto, raising an inquiring brow.

"Che... as if I'd be caught dead anywhere with you, baseball idiot. The tenth said rest, not lower my IQ with sheer idiocy."

"Wow," Yamamoto said with a laugh. "So cruel."

"Actually, Gokudera-kun... Haru and I spoke about it earlier and Yamamoto will be following the story from here on out. Perhaps it's best you get acquainted with him better. I'd really like if you could try to get along with him," Tsuna said with his brightest smile.

When the tenth smiled like that, there wasn't any way Hayato could object.


	5. Book I : My Saint : Chapter V

_**Chapter V**_

* * *

"I really hate being here with you. Just thought I'd clarify that," Hayato said, lighting a cigarette.

They sat on the patio of a bar that Hayato didn't know the name of and it was probably because it was way classier than the dives he frequents. He doesn't visit these kinds of places because the drinks are too expensive and the men here were either straight or had more confidence and self respect than the men Hayato usually took home. Thinking about it that way, soberly, almost was enough to make Hayato feel shameful but he had himself convinced that he doesn't put thought into these things, it's all solely impulsive.

The night air was warm and balmy, only a gentle breeze blew every so often, tousling Hayato's hair. There were elegant paper lanterns strung across the high, wooden arbors that framed the patio, adding a soft yellow glow that spread evenly along planked veranda. There was little noise coming from the streets or the patrons, and Hayato could hear subtle chamber music playing on the loud speaker outside. He had to admit it was a really nice place, even if he was here with someone that soured his mood so easily.

Yamamoto smiled as he set down the drinks on the table he had just retrieved from the bar. "Aw, I can't be that bad. You don't even know me."

"Nor do I have a desire to. I'm only here because the Tenth asked me to come."

"Haha, why do you call him 'the Tenth'? It's kind of an unusual name."

Hayato rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "He's the tenth generation chief of police for Namimori Middle District. It's an honorable title."

"Oh, I see. Have you known him long?" Yamamoto sat down and took a swig of his beer.

Hayato followed suit and took a sip of his double whiskey, on the rocks. He debated on beer, but decided he'd rather have something that didn't leave your mouth tasting like shit after the first three you drank and that he'd need something a little stronger if he had to deal with this idiot for the night. He tapped the ash off his cigarette into the glass ashtray on the patio table. "I've known him since I was fourteen."

"Oh wow, that's amazing to have a friend for such a long time! How did you guys meet?"

"Tch... is this going to be an entire night of Q and A from you? Because if so, I think I'll leave after this drink."

"Haha, sorry, sorry. It's a bad habit, occupational hazard," Yamamoto said with a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck.

"Che."

"Well... what do you want to talk about? I mean, we don't know each other, so wouldn't questions be appropriate right now?"

"Idiot... you ask too many of them and I'm a cop with a lot of enemies. If the information I give you, even if you say it's off the record, gets out then that would cause a lot of problems for me. Why don't you just shut up and drink?"

"Aha, okay... say, why don't you and Miura-san get along? Is she an ex girlfriend or something?"

Hayato stopped mid drag to glare at Yamamoto incredulously. "Are you mad? Ha! As if. I just dislike her. A lot. She's rude and unprofessional, loud and annoying and way too familiar with the Tenth." He brought the whiskey glass to his lips.

"Aaah, I see now. You... are in a relationship with your boss?"

Hayato nearly spat out his drink. "Wh-what?!" Unbelievable. This guy was unfuckingbelievable. "I-I... I am not in a relationship nor do I have romantic feelings towards my boss! And... and! What did I tell you? Your questions are too personal and irritating! Just shut up and drink!"

Yamamoto laughed. "I'm sorry! It's just the way you look at him... and the way you jump on his every whim. It looks like love to me," Yamamoto said, gazing out into the red glow of the traffic beyond the patio.

Hayato angrily crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. "That's it, we're done here." He moved to get up but as he attempted to leave the table, a cool hand wrapped around his wrist. A shot of electricity shot up his arm. He looked down to see Yamamoto staring up at him through his glasses.

"Please... don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so forward. Haha, I'm not really good with these kinds of things. Words... I'm not so good with them."

Hayato scowled at him and sat back down, finishing his drink in one gulp. "I respect the tenth, a lot. That's it. Ask me something like that again and I'm leaving."

_Why... why are you still sitting here?_

Yamamoto withdrew his hand from around Hayato's arm, his fingers - Hayato could almost _swear _it was purposely_-_ brushing along his skin. They left behind a trail of warm heat that made the skin on his arm bump.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I'm always making you angry, aren't I?"

Hayato looked up from his glass and felt some sort of _pang _in his chest. Yamamoto looked like little puppy, defeated and sad but with bright hopeful eyes and if he had a tail, Hayato was sure he'd be wagging it at the way his eyes lit up when Hayato glanced at him.

"Why did you choose to become a journalist? You said you're no good with words, right? Don't you have to be in your profession?" Hayato asked with a scoff.

Yamamoto smiled. "Yeah, I guess so. I... I just wanted to try out the news for a change. I'd never get tired of sports, especially baseball, but I thought I'd try something a little more serious." He shrugged.

"Serious doesn't suit you," Hayato said, lighting another cigarette.

"Really?" Yamamoto laughed. "I can be serious."

"Ha, I don't think so. You haven't stopped smiling or laughing since I met you. Why do you think everything is funny?"

Yamamoto shrugged again. "What's the point in getting upset or angry? It's just a waste of energy and it doesn't feel good." He finished his beer. "Did you want another drink?"

Hayato took the empty glass in his hand and eyed it, as if he was willing it to fill with more alcohol. "I suppose I could use another," he said flatly.

"Haha, okay." Yamamoto took their glasses back to the bar and came back a few moments later with a beer, his whiskey and a two shot glasses. He put one shot in front of Hayato along with his whiskey, and set the beer and other shot on his side of the table.

"Oi," Hayato said with a dry laugh. "Now, I'm not one to complain about more booze, but are you sure _you _can handle more, baseball freak?"

"Haha, baseball freak... You have some strange names you call people. I can handle my alcohol," Yamamoto said with a grin.

"What are those anyways?" Hayato nodded to the shot glasses.

"Tequila," Yamamoto said, his grin spreading wider.

"I hope this isn't a bullshit attempt to get me drunk so I'll tell you details of the investigation," Hayato said, raising a suspicious silver brow.

Yamamoto grinned and took up his shot glass. "Are you sure _you _can handle more booze, Gokudera-san? I mean, if two glasses of whiskey and a shot of tequila is going to make you drunk, maybe we should stop drinking."

"Che, I can handle my alcohol, you bastard. Probably better than you!" Hayato took his shot glass and downed it's contents, then shot back his whiskey in two gulps. He grinned at Yamamoto. "I'll go grab myself another round," he smirked.

Yamamoto raised his long eyebrows and shot back his his tequila, handing the empty shot glass to Hayato. "You can get me one too," he said smugly, narrowed eyes and wry grin taught on his lips.

Hayato liked that look. There was something behind the thick framed glasses in those hazel eyes. There was a dark spark in them, something like a competitive edge and for once, Hayato saw that maybe there was a serious side to him. He liked sports and had an athlete's body, maybe he had been a jock and that's where he got that competitiveness from, that determined and focused look he had in his eyes just now, like he was challenging Hayato.

Hayato returned with their drinks and a sort of silent drinking competition ensued. Yamamoto wasn't lying when he said he could handle his booze, he was doing a pretty good job at keeping up with Hayato. Although, the more inebriated he became, the more touchy-feely he became, clasping Hayato's arm when he said something funny or accidentally brushing against his hand when reaching for their drinks on the crowded table. Every time he touched Hayato, there was a jolt or tingle or some sort of feeling that had him reeling and distracted.

Hayato also thought that though the reporter was annoying as fuck, there was just something about him that intrigued him. There was something about the reporter that had Hayato sitting in this classy bar, getting drunk _again_ despite his earlier want _not to_ with a man he barely knew - which wasn't much of an issue for him - that could potentially ruin his case or even more, his career.

Unfortunately though, Hayato was a reckless person and often enjoyed living dangerously (although the next day, when he's sober, it'll be living stupidly) and there was just something about the reporter that had him throwing out all his inhibitions. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

"Do you always dress like that?" Hayato asked, commenting on the reporter's casual attire. He wore a yellow sports jacket with a white t-shirt underneath and black jeans. Hayato had never seen a reporter dress as loosely as Yamamoto did.

"Haha, it's comfortable. Why, what's wrong with my clothes?"

"Aside from the obvious lack of fashion sense? I've never seen reporters dress like that."

"Haha, well you're used to Miura-san. She's always got a suit skirt on. It's nice and all, but it doesn't look real comfortable. Do you always dress like that?"

Hayato downed his fifth shot of tequila. "What are you talking about?"

"Well... yesterday you were wearing that black button up shirt and it wasn't buttoned up. And you were wearing a tank top underneath. Awfully casual. _And_ your jeans are really tight. I've never seen a police officer wear such..." Yamamoto shot back his fifth round of tequila. "... seductive clothing before."

Hayato scoffed. "Have you got a problem with my clothes?"

Yamamoto's lips twisted into a malicious grin and he arched a long brow. "Yeah, actually I do. I think you should take them off."

* * *

Hayato didn't know how a conversation about clothing resulted in theirs being shed on a motel room floor in a sudden blur of blinding lust.

Hayato also didn't know why he had an overwhelming urge to fuck Yamamoto into a senseless oblivion, why he's had such a strong animalistic attraction to this man since the first time he laid eyes on him. He's going to blame it on the booze, surely. He's going to blame it on a number of things but right now he's focused on one thing and one thing only. Right now he has the reporter slammed up against an ugly floral wallpapered wall, with one of Yamamoto's long legs draped over the crook of his arm, begging Hayato for more.

He decides against giving attention to the reporter's hard and anticipating cock and instead, slides two fingers down and across his perineum right to his rimmed muscle. He drove them in dryly, eliciting a cry from Yamamoto and he smirked. He looked over at the reporter's face, who's eyes were squeezed shut behind fogged glasses and mouth drawn open from the pain, and that's when he realizes he's getting some sadistic pleasure in the way he's able to wipe the man's smile right off of his face and replace it with such a contorted look.

"Yamamoto, you're so tight." _So tight that it's unnatural for a man who was as seductive as Yamamoto had been at the bar. _"Are you... are you a virgin?" he asks smugly, pressing in deeper, passed the second knuckles, stroking his walls and watching the reporter's face all the while.

He knows he's hit the right spot when Yamamoto's breath hitches and he clutches the fabric of Hayato's shirt at the shoulders. He cries out again, softer this time; a more pleasurable sound.

"So-sort of," Yamamoto squeaks.

Hayato returns to biting and sucking Yamamoto's neck and asks, "How are you _sort of_ a virgin?"

"I-I've _aah_ n-never _shit_ done it - _Oh,_ _Gokudera!_ ... before..."

Hayato doesn't respond, because right now his lust addled brain can't begin to comprehend how Yamamoto could be so wanton yet he's never been fucked before, and he focuses more on the stroking and twisting of his fingers and the trail of bite marks he's left along Yamamoto's collar bone.

"_Please _Gokudera, I want you... inside me," he pleads through bated breath, clenching around Hayato's fingers.

Hayato laps the back of his ear with his tongue. "Are you sure you want to lose your virginity is to a complete stranger?" he asks through a smirk. Hayato's taken a lot of pleasure in being this man's first. Being the one to destroy his innocence. He moves in a third finger, slower this time, just to add a little more pressure.

Yamamoto's digging his fingernails into the back of Hayato's neck and he has his back arched, head tilted against the wall and he pants, "It's not _unh _l-like that, I-I like _nnh _G-Gokudera."

Hayato felt heat creep into his cheeks and he bit down hard on Yamamoto's ear lobe. '_Like' ...what the fuck is that? I don't need some fucking predictable confession to ruin the mood. Especially when all I want to do is fuck this fucking bastard so fucking hard. _"Idiot... to say such things... you really are a fool."

Yamamoto rests his head on top of Hayato's and pants... _pleads, _"I want... to kiss you."

Hayato sinks his teeth into the juncture of Yamamoto's neck and shoulder. "I said no kissing, idiot."

"But- _aah!_"

Hayato moves in the third finger as far as it'll reach in response to Yamamoto's protest. "I said _no_."

Yamamoto doesn't say anything, he just rolls his head to the other side and groans from pleasurable pain while Hayato scissors his hole.

Hayato feels the leg Yamamoto is using to support himself while standing is starting to tremble and the one hung over Hayato's arm has probably already gone numb.

This is against Hayato's rules, he doesn't fuck virgins, he doesn't fuck people he knows, _definitely _not reporters working the same case as him but fuck. Something about the way Yamamoto calls out his name, the way he pleads for more of him and that look on his face. Fuck. _Fuck. _It has Hayato losing control.

"On the bed, on your knees," Hayato demands, removing his fingers hastily and leaving Yamamoto to whimper. He drops Yamamoto's leg and steps back, divesting himself of his shirt.

Yamamoto stands, albeit shakily, and moves over to the bed, nearly falling into into the center. Before turning over like Hayato told him to, he eyes the silverette in the face and spreads his legs, taking a hold of his own cock in his hands.

Hayato stills for a minute, almost captivated by this display of eroticism, his heart racing a mile a minute. He reaches into his pocket to the square foil packets he always keeps with him and doesn't hesitate to tear it open once he's gotten rid of his pants.

He holds Yamamoto's gaze, every so often drifting down to the chiseled chest to the hardened cock being pumped. Hayato chewed on his bottom lip. _Fuck this guy. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Hayato slips the latex on and walks over to the bed. He doesn't realize it but his face is flushed and he's licking his lips, his eyes are half lidded with lust. All he can think about is taking this man, something he's been wanting to do since they first met.

He opens another foil packet, this time it's a lubricant that Hayato never really uses, but for some reason he doesn't want to hurt him. He can't really explain it because though it's all about control and dominance for Hayato, he wants Yamamoto to enjoy it just as much as he's going to.

The polite thing to do would be to ask him if he's sure he wants to go through with this, after all Hayato is about to take his virginity. Neither of them are children and Hayato has to wonder how such a gorgeous, sex driven man like Yamamoto has been like this for so long because Hayato's pretty sure he wouldn't have a problem with finding someone to fuck him. Especially when he's staring at you dead in the face, while he strokes his own cock and begging you to fuck him.

So instead Hayato says, "Turn around."

Yamamoto is obedient and turns over on the mattress, his hips raised up and ready. Hayato lines himself up against Yamamoto and slides one finger coated with lube into him, then two, then three fingers probing and preparing. After a few seconds of this, when Yamamoto pleads for him, Hayato withdraws and pushes the tip of his cock inside him. Yamamoto winces and he stops, but he tells Hayato to continue.

He didn't need permission, but he waited anyways and when Yamamoto told him to move, he did, easing in slow.

"Shit... tight," he hissed.

Yamamoto whimpered and fisted the bed sheets. When Hayato finally hilted, Yamamoto let out a long and sultry moan, almost with relief and Hayato began to move.

His hand grips one of Yamamoto's hips and he slides the other hand up his muscular back, resting in the middle of his spine and pressing in his blunt fingernails into his skin.

"Fuck... " Inside Yamamoto feels fucking amazing and he's not sure if it's because of the alcohol that's got him feeling so loose but he's really enjoying this man. The heat that surrounds his latex clad cock is intoxicating and the sounds coming out of the reporter's mouth are even more so.

Hayato loses himself in the moment and takes up his usual rough thrusting only to be jarred out of the haze when he hears a painful cry coming from Yamamoto. He stills and remembers what he's doing and who doing he's doing it with and _almost _has the heart to apologize when breathlessly Yamamoto tells him,

"Don't stop, m-more."

And so Hayato continues, snaking an arm around his waist to grip Yamamoto's cock in his hand. He thrusts in sync with his strokes, licking and biting down Yamamoto's spine.

"_Shit_... you feel good," Hayato groans, gripping Yamamoto's hip and digging his nails in for emphasis.

He doesn't realize it, but he's moaning too, enjoying this way more than he usually does and he can't explain why. Yamamoto is telling him to fuck him harder and Hayato is a little surprised but he complies, angling his hips and thrusting in harder.

"Ah, Gokudera!"

When he hears Yamamoto shout out his name, he thrusts in even deeper until he feels Yamamoto's cock jerk and shudder and he clenches down tightly around Hayato.

Hayaro reaches his climax too, as shudders wrack his entire body. He thrusts into Yamamoto a few more times, slowly for good measure before he collapses on top the broad back of the man underneath him, spent in every way.

Yamamoto shifts uncomfortably and Hayato eases up and out of him and when he does, Yamamoto winces a little and sprawls out on the bed, shoving his arms underneath the pillow. He let out a satiated sigh and Hayato could almost hear the grin on his face, even though he couldn't see it. He doesn't pay any heed to the fact that he's already able to read nuances in the man he's barely known for twenty four hours and has only met on two occasions. Hayato falls to the bed beside him and he thinks he'll just lie here for a minute to catch his breath and to stop the room from spinning. He's dizzy but it's not from the alcohol, it's from the shock of probably the most sensational orgasm he's ever experienced.

Yamamoto is still and his breathing has steadied, though Hayato can hear the soft thud of an erratic heart beat, pounding much like his own. He can tell he's asleep and he's not going to wake him. He's just going to compose himself and smoke a cigarette and then he's going to get the fuck out of here before Yamamoto wants to cuddle or do some lame shit like that. Instead, he unknowingly basks in the comforting warmth radiating off this enigmatic man and drifts off into a euphoric coma.


	6. Book I : My Saint : Chapter VI

_**Chapter VI **_

* * *

He felt a hot and heavy prescence at his naked back and a warmth that enveloped him. It felt relaxing and comfortable, like a thick quilted blanket cocoon wrapped around you on a cold winter's day while you sat in front of the glow of a log fireplace.

It felt safe and inviting, a feeling that Hayato has never really before. He relished the feeling for a minute until he became aware of hot breath on his neck and ear, jarring him out of his reverie.

His eyes flew open and he blinked several times to rid the fog from his vision. Surprisingly, he didn't have a hangover and thinking about that led to remembering last night.

The heaviness he felt was a chin on his shoulder and an arm around his waist, pressed into a man he barely even knew. And for a split second, Hayato was conflicted. This feeling was nice, it felt _good_ but it also scared him. He didn't know what it meant, the racing of his heart and the flutter in his stomach. It scared him that the man wrapped around him was so compelling, that he was profoundly captivated by this seemingly simple yet enigmatic stranger.

Yamamoto stirred and Hayato took that as a chance to subtly wriggle free from his arms only to feel a cold and lonely shock to his skin when he left them.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Taking a backwards glance over his shoulder, Hayato could see that Yamamoto's glasses had fallen off his face sometime during the night and the way he slept so peacefully made him look like an innocent child.

It scared Hayato that instead of rushing to get out of the motel room and shower away the disgust he usually felt after a one night stand, he was lingering here, watching him sleep and feeling _almost _guilty that he was going to leave before he woke.

Padding silently across the carpet, he picked up the used condom and disposed of it in a trashcan by the front door and collected his clothing. He hurried into his jeans and shirt but he couldn't find one of his shoes.

Cursing under his breath, Hayato looked all over the room but still couldn't find his shoe. His eyes fell to the bed where he watched the steady rise and fall of the broad, tanned back that contrasted the white polyester sheets. The only place he hadn't looked was under the bed. He didn't have a clue how it would have ended up there but he couldn't find it, and stranger things have happened.

_Yeah, like you breaking all of your rules of engagement in one fucking night, idiot._

But, still looking at the reporter, Yamamoto, he couldn't help but feel an unfamiliar tug at his lips; pulling them into somewhat of a endearing smile.

_Well... I guess it can't be helped._

Still, Hayato was smart and wasn't about commitment. Or messing up his hard earned career. Or good at anything when it came to matters of the heart. Heart? He wouldn't go that far. He just needed to find his damn shoe and get back to work on catching a serial killer that enjoyed mocking him.

He crept over to the bed and knelt down, peering into the dust mite filled darkness when he saw his shoe within arms reach. He stretched for it but could just graze the leather with his fingertips so he lay flat on the carpet to reach underneath. Just as he was withdrawing his arm from under the bed, gripping his nomad shoe, he head a shift and a rustle above him. He glanced up only to be met with strikingly wide eyes, the irises that looked like clear caramel coloured glass now that Hayato could see them without the lenses of his glasses obscuring their beauty.

_Their... what?_

"Gokudera?" he croaked, his voice a little hoarse from the strenuous workout of his vocal chords the night before.

Hayato felt the tips of his ears get hot and his cheeks burn a little. He couldn't tear his gaze away. "I uh..." He cleared his throat. "My shoe," he muttered, thrusting the shoe between them for emphasis. Finally he was able to rip his eyes from the earnest orbs that seemed to smile at him without the slightest movement. "I have to work," he said... _almost_ regrettably.

Yamamoto reached out, pushed the shoe away and brushed the fringe of hair that had fallen over Hayato's eyes. He smiled, big and wide. "That's too bad, but... I understand."

Heat flared following his fingertips and Hayato was trying really hard to suppress the urge to crawl over this man's body and take him one more time for good measure. The sex the night before had been mind-numbing and Hayato didn't know what it was about this man, but he'd do it again. However, if he did that he'd have no escape, no excuse and he was scared he'd want to lean into that sculpted chest and just stay there for an eternity.

_What... the fuck. _

Shaking his head violently, he sprung up from his kneeling position and slipped on his shoe, casually brushing the hair out of his eyes as if to erase over that _almost _romantic gesture of Yamamoto's.

He felt Yamamoto's eyes follow him to the door, but he didn't say anything. It kind of infuriated Hayato, he had just taken this guy's virginity and he's just going to casually let him walk out if here like it meant nothing to him. This guy was unbelievably dense and there was something probably wrong with him, that he just let a stranger fuck him senseless and didn't have a word to say about that. Not even sober comments like _'__What the fuck was I_ _thinking?_' or even _'__You took_ _advantage of me!_'. Hayato has heard many of them, although he'll proudly admit - to himself really - that none were ever about his sexual performance and they _always _wanted more afterwards. But now it was him wanting more, and it was this idiot here who just let some stranger fuck him and was completely okay with the fact that he was walking away without even the promise to call him again. Without even an apology.

_"I__t's not like that, I like Gokudera."_

"Idiot," Hayato muttered under his breath. Well, so be it. It wasn't like he was ever going to let this happen again, because that was another rule of his. You never fuck the same person more than once. Because then you risked feelings getting involved and Hayato wasn't capable of feeling anything so that wasn't something he'd want to deal with. It was already going to be difficult enough if they had to work on the case together.

_So if you're not going to do it again, why do you care how he feels now? _

Hayato growled in regards to his inner monologue and left the hotel room in a hurry, lighting a cigarette and flagging down a cab once he walked out to the main street.

* * *

**A/N: **

Still on hiatus, but I had this chapter lying around so I'd figure I'd finish it and publish it.


	7. Book I : My Saint : Chapter VII

**Chapter VII**

* * *

Back at his house, Hayato is in the dark wandering around aimlessly trying to make sense of the fuckery going round in his head. He hasn't been home for more than ten minutes though when he hears the slight shuffle of feet coming from his bedroom. He whirls around into the kitchen, his back to the wall that separates the living room from the dining room and draws his vintage stainless steel .44 caliber AutoMag with a vented barrel and custom ebony wood grips out of its holster and points it down at the parquet floor. He closes his eyes and listens for the shuffling to begin again, except he hears the loud, hollow clacking of heels against the wood.

_A woman? _

Hayato calculates the distance between the kitchen and his bedroom and counts down from five, dashing put and pointing his gun at the intruder.

"Freeze!" Heart pounding, he paused.

"Hayato."

"_Bianchi?_ "

The woman, clad in a shimmering, red dress sashays toward him, her high black stilettos clacking underneath and her dress moved fluidly with the curves it hugged on her body. Her rose coloured hair hung in loose curls over her ivory shoulders and her green eyes sparkled like a cat's. Her glossy lips curled into a smile and she reached out an elegant arm and gripped the barrel of Hayato's gun.

"Is that really nice etiquette, to point a gun at your sister, Hayato?"

Hayato growled and lowered his gun, jamming it back into the holster. "Jesus fuck, what are you doing here?"

Bianchi leaned in close, so close Hayato could smell the subtle scent of her perfume. It was like a saccharine scent, sugary and almost seductive, had this not been his sister and had he not been gay. "Does a woman need an excuse to see her brother?" she whispered in his ear, her lips brushing off his earlobe leaving sticky gloss in its wake.

Hayato pushed her back gently and moved further into the kitchen. "If it's you, then yes. You don't do anything innocuous without a hidden agenda, _sister._"

She followed Hayato into the kitchen and took a seat on a bar stool, draping a long leg over her thigh. The slit in her red dress revealed her creamy pale skin, much the same as her brother's. She rested her head in her hand perched up by her elbow on the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Well, brother, now that you mention it... I do need a favour."

Hayato leaned back against the counter, putting distance in between them and rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. You know I have no jurisdiction in Italy, sis. And if you do anything stupid here, I'll have to slap some cuffs on you."

Bianchi's laugh sounded like clinking crystal. She shuddered visibly, though minutely. "Oh, Hayato. Don't tease me like that," she said, her voice smooth and sultry.

Hayato shuddered too, though his was due to a whole different emotion. Perhaps disgust would be fitting. "Well, are you going to tell me?"

Bianchi sighed. "You really are no fun, brother."

"Yes, because flirting with my sister is such a hobby of mine. Get to the fucking point, Bianchi. I'm working a case, I don't have time for your bullshit." Hayato lit a cigarette.

"Mind if I have one?" she asked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

Hayato leaned over and handed her a cigarette and his lighter. She held the cigarette between two long and slender fingers, nails polished in a sparkling ruby.

"Hayato... a lady never lights her own cigarette in a man's presence."

"Che," Hayato remarked frustratingly and lit the tip of her cigarette, her eyes boring into his as he did so. She blew a long plume of smoke in his face before he resumed his position at the counter.

"Romeo is dead," she said flatly, taking another pull of her cigarette.

"I know," Hayato said, turning to rummage through his cupboards for two glasses. "Drink?" he asked, turning to face Bianchi.

She smirked, the tendrils of smoke wrapping around her head lazily. "Mm, yes. Something strong... and stiff," she said.

Hayato rolled his eyes again and reached under the sink for his aged whiskey. He didn't bother with the ice and poured the glasses full. He set hers beside her elbow on the wooden block top to the island and set down an ashtray beside it. She lifted the glass with her other hand and Hayato could see the large diamond on her ring finger.

"That his?" he asked.

Bianchi took a sip and pursed her lips. "Yes, this is what my Romeo gave me when he purposed. But now..."

"Yeah, he's dead. Got it. What does this make? Fourth, fifth husband now?"

"Fourth," Bianchi stated, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Jesus... I don't know how you haven't managed to get caught -"

"Hayato, I didn't kill Romeo. I loved him," she said softly, staring into the bottom of her glass.

Hayato snorted and took a long gulp of his own whiskey, the alcohol burning its way down his throat and lightning his chest on fire. It was _way _too early to be drinking. "Right, like you didn't kill the other three? It may not be obvious to the Italian justice system, but you didn't get the name Poison Scorpion for nothing."

Bianchi glared at Hayato with eyes alight with a fire that could often mirror her brother's eyes when passionate about something. "Maybe so, but I didn't kill _him_. Someone is framing me."

Hayato took a long look at his sister before deciding she was telling the truth. Being a cop, he had a knack for these things and no one knew his sister better than he did. He sighed. "So what happened?"

Bianchi snubbed her cigarette out and set her glass on the island top. "Three weeks ago, I was the club and Romeo was supposed to pick me up when I was finished the gig. Instead he didn't pick me up, one of his drivers did. I wasn't bothered by it, went to our home but it was empty. Romeo wasn't due for his business trip for another two days. I'm not a woman that needs to go looking around for her husband, Hayato. The men _always _come to me and in our world, the wives mind their business."

Bianchi was a lounge singer at one of their father's many elite night clubs in Palermo. She was gorgeous and rare; with skin like porcelain, eyes like emeralds and hair the colour of powdered blush. She was untouchable, being the daughter of an infamous mafia Don and the niece of a sleazy but well respected black market daughter and the sister of the Hurricane Bomb Hayato. However, it didn't make her unobtainable because men fawned over her despite the dangers of even her own reputation. She was well known for being with rich and powerful men; the last one, Romeo di Marco of the Bovino Famiglia being no exception.

"But when I hadn't heard from him in two days, I asked one of the Bovino's henchmen if he had any knowledge. Of course, he told me nothing and two days after that, Romeo washed up on Arnella Beach. Hayato, the coroner said he had been poisoned." Bianchi stared off into space, as if recalling the incident but with no emotion.

Hayato finished the last mouthful of whiskey and sighed. "Bianchi... if this is some kind of ploy -"

"Hayato, I didn't kill him!" she shouted, slamming her hand down on the counter top. "I _loved_ Romeo, he was it for me."

"Alright, alright. I believe you. Are you a suspect?"

"Of course," she said with a sigh.

"And you left the _country?_ Fuck, Bianchi as if that doesn't make you look more guilty."

"I had to! The Bovino Famiglia is at war with ours and there's been a hit issued... for me."

"What? Jesus, what the fuck have you gotten yourself in to? What Is that bastard doing about all this?"

Bianchi flipped her hair over her shoulder, revealing the plunging neckline of her high collared, sleeveless shimmering red dress that was awkwardly too formal for Hayato's humble bachelor kitchen. "He's absolutely livid, of course. He and Shamal arranged for me to fly here, to be under your protection."

Hayato scoffed. "A little fucking warning would have been nice."

"Well, it's not like we could have contacted you. We can't leave a paper trail or an electronic one at that. You know how advanced the Bovino's technology is. They're bound to find me sooner or later. Romeo was the son of the Bovino's _consigliere_. Hayato, I'm actually scared. I don't know what's going on but I'm right in the middle of it all."

"Bianchi," Hayato sighed. "I can't... I can't help you. I left the mafia ties in Italy. I'm not that kind of man anymore."

Bianchi stood and made her way over to him. She smirked. "You're a man of the law, aren't you, Hayato? Can't you protect me, officer?" she asked, trailing her fingertips down his chest.

Hayato pushed her hand away. "Not from these guys. You were probably better off in Italy."

Bianchi pouted. "What a cruel little brother I have." She brushed the fringe of hair out of Hayato's eyes and traced down his face and cheekbone. "Such a gorgeous little brother. I'm glad you didn't stay in Italy. Though as much as I've missed you, I didn't want you to mess up that pretty face of yours, dull those beautiful eyes. But I need your help, please, Hayato. There isn't anyone I can trust except you."

Hayato sighed. His sister was fifty shades of fucked up but it didn't change the fact that she was his family and she was reaching out to him. "If I let you stay here, you _have _to stay out of sight. You can't stick your nose into my affairs, either. I drink a lot, smoke a lot and I don't always come home. So don't... don't act like a crazy, overbearing sister. Alright?"

She smiled victoriously, twirling a strand of strawberry hair in her fingers. "I'll behave."

"And put some clothes on," he growled.

Bianchi narrowed her eyes. "Aw, what's wrong Hayato? Is my dress... too revealing for you?" she asked, taking his hand and sliding it up her naked thigh.

Hayato ripped his hand away. "Ugh, stop doing that, you bastard! For someone who's lost a husband they claim to have loved, you don't seem to fucking shaken up about it."

Bianchi turned from him then, switching her hips alluringly as she walked away. She looked over her shoulder and winked before she left the kitchen.

Hayato let out a long and frustrated sigh. It wasn't even nine o' clock in the morning and he already was fed up with the way the day was going. Sharing the house with his overly licentious sister was going to be troublesome, hiding his double life from her was going to be troublesome and if anyone came to Japan in search for her, it was going to be troublesome. Hayato felt the need to get lost in the bottle and the fact that he kept going back to it as a solution was posing to be a problem. He was beginning to feel like an alcoholic. Hell, maybe he was already one.

His mind drifted off and got lost in what was becoming another addiction. A certain addiction that involved bright hazel eyes behind glasses, smooth olive skin... the bevels and curbs of the ribbed muscles in his abdomen, his back... the ripped biceps that flexed so seductively clutching the bed sheets and that brush... that brush of his soft fingertips against his forehead.

_"That's too bad, but... I understand." _

Hayato felt heat coiling in the pit of his stomach and a tingle shoot down his spine as he recollected on last night's events. He felt like he wanted to see him again, he _needed_ to see him again. Hayato's never thought about another man the way he's been thinking about Yamamoto. He's never thought about _any_ man except for when he needs what he needs and then, he doesn't even really see their face. He definitely never remembers their name. He's never woken up beside one either, and that wasn't because he had been drunk. Part of him knew as he fell asleep on that motel mattress that he wanted to wake up next to him. Maybe it was because the sex had been good or maybe... fuck. He didn't know, he didn't know anything and his brain was starting to hurt trying to work it out.

Luckily, his cell phone rang.

"Gokudera," he answered.

_"Yo Octopus Head! You're extremely late, what have you been doing?" _

"Shit, I know. I ran... into some family problems. Give me a half an hour and I'll be in."

_"Actually, that's what I was calling about. Sawada says you should rest up another day._"

"What? Fuck no, I'm tired of resting. I need to fucking work. I'm coming in, I'll talk to him." Hayato walked from the kitchen to the living room and heard the water running in his bathroom. He walked to his bedroom.

_"Well, you better make it in quick, there's an agent coming in from Tokyo's Public Security Bureau to collaborate on the case."_

"Fuck, just try to stall. I'll be in as soon as I can." Hayato hung up the phone and this was the one time he wished his house had two bathrooms.

Standing at the door of his bedroom, he saw his sister's Versace luggage, one suitcase to be exact, on his bed. Being a cop, it was only natural he was curious and only natural he would want to search its contents.

He shoved his cell into his back pocket and walked up to his bed, opening the zipper to the suitcase. He pulled things out tentatively; trying to avoid the various flimsy, almost non existent panties she had folded neatly in the corner. He removed those gingerly as if they were disease ridden. And who knew, they possibly could be, Hayato also knew her for her promiscuity.

_Like I'm one to talk_, he scoffed inwardly.

Bianchi was clean, nothing but a few cocktail dresses, casual wear and her vast collection of thongs. Though she was a cunning woman, if she had anything to hide, she wouldn't be stupid enough to hide it in plain view.

"What a nice little brother, unpacking for his sister."

Hayato turned towards the door. "Tch, didn't I tell you to put some fucking clothes on?"

Bianchi stood in the doorway in a dark red towel, her hair hanging in ringlets over her shoulders. "Well I have a problem, Hayato. I didn't pack anything to wear comfortably." She moved into the bedroom and again, invaded Hayato's personal bubble of space. She pushed him down on the bed. "Is it alright if I borrow something if yours?" she asked, sliding a hand up his thigh.

Hayato growled and swatted her hand away. "The next time you touch me, I'll put a bullet in you," he warned with a scowl.

Bianchi moved back and allowed Hayato to get up off the bed. She laughed. "Oh Hayato, when you talk like that I find it hard to remind myself that you're my brother and not some rare and gorgeous creature that I need to sink my teeth into."

Hayato snorted. "When you talk that way, I find it hard to resist the urge to throw you in the looney bin for being all kinds of fucked up." He grabbed a pair of jeans and a real dress shirt from his closet and boxers and socks from his dresser.

"Hmph, I can't help it. Looking at you is like looking at my reflection but with such sharp features and seductive body. Hayato do you work out?"

"Honestly, Bianchi. One bullet." Hayato remarked, patting the holster on his hip. She smiled but chose to keep her mouth shut which was an unbelievable relief to Hayato. "I've got to go to work. There are clothes in the closet, pajamas in the drawers. Help yourself but seriously, get fucking dressed. I can't have you walking around my house in a towel for fuck sakes."

She opened her mouth to make another slutty remark when Hayato shot her a hot glare. "Don't even say it," he warned. She closed her mouth and smirked instead and Hayato could only imagine the colourful things that would have coming floating off those gloss slicked lips had he allowed her the freedom. He shuddered.


	8. Book I : My Saint : Chapter VIII

_**Chapter VIII**_

* * *

"Are you going to tell me what you and Hibari found out yesterday?" Hayato asked, taking a much needed swig of his scalding hot black coffee. He had just gotten to the station after stopping off at the coffee shop he and Yamamoto sat at two days ago. He paid no attention to the fact that he lingered there for a second, trying to recall the soapy fresh fragrance of the reporter when he had leaned in close. But it was only for a second because remembering his scent lead to remembering Bianchi's perfume and the uncomfortable and disgusting closeness she had displayed which resulted in him feeling sick to his stomach.

Ryohei had been jotting down some notes on a coroner's report when he looked up and smirked. "I think we may have an extreme lead on the other three victim's identies."

Hayato scratched his head and set the coffee cup on Ryohei's desk. He felt excited, finally for the first time since entering the first crime scene, that there might be a chance in solving this case. There was nothing more frustrating for an officer to have one of his cases go cold, but to Hayato who had some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder, it irked him to the point where he'd lose sleep because he couldn't focus on anything else. His pride was his mind, being able to quickly solve any problem that arised.

"Well? Are you going to fucking tell me, or are you just going to gloat like an asshole?" he asked Ryohei.

Ryohei laughed, a loud barking laugh. "Well duh. I'm not gonna leave my partner outta the loop."

The pen was quiet, most of the officers were beat cops so they were out patrolling. Hayato didn't miss the days of being a beat cop, they were often uneventful. Sure there were times he and Ryohei caught an adrenaline rush chasing down robbers and thugs but nothing gave Hayato more pleasure in his career than solving mysteries. That made him a superb homicide detective and with Namimori Middle District being the most violent and crime riddled out of the North and South districts, he needed to be.

"We started in Sakura Town at Ikeda Nosaru's apartment. Hibari and his team went through his belongings. We found two unregistered guns with the serial numbers filed down and few ounces of coke - I'm only talkin' maybe three of four to the extreme."

Gokudera's jaw dropped slightly. "That's close to twelve million yen... what's he doing with that much profitable cash in that shitty apartment?"

Ryohei shrugged. "Maybe he was a drug pusher."

Hayato shook his head. Something didn't seem right. "No... none of his priors are drug related."

"Maybe he was new at it. You said that his tattoo meant he wasn't in the gang for extremely long. Maybe they were getting around to trusting him enough to sell shit."

Hayato was silent. He mulled over the details, gave himself a second to think. Using the first most familiar conversion, twelve million Yen was equal to about eighty thousand Euros. And if he converted Euros to American dollars, it was roughly one hundred and twenty thousand. It was a lot of merchandise to be sitting in plain view in this low life's apartment. Perhaps it had been planted by the killer.

"Fingerprints?" asked Hayato.

Ryohei sighed. "Only his in the apartment and on the baggies of coke. They were hidden in a pillow case."

"So we're sure this is the same guy, right?"

Ryohei nodded. "Kusakabe was able to confirm size and weight based off his profile. When we ran the prints, his mug came up in AFIS as a match."

Hayato rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What about the landlord, did you talk to the owner of the ramen shop?"

"Yeah, landlord said he kept to himself, paid rent in full, in cash and on time every month. Never had any problems with him."

"What was the rent and how long did he live there for?"

"Forty thousand yen, two years. Never had a problem. I see that extreme look on your face. What are you thinking?"

Hayato reached for his coffee and gulped it down. He really wanted a cigarette. "I'm thinking this guy was a nobody. His priors were for armed robbery... he's a thief, not a pusher."

Ryohei raised a white brow. The scar across his brow and temple stretched with it. "So you're thinking maybe he stole the coke? And maybe someone killed him for it?"

"I don't know. It's not likely. This isn't a regular yakuza killing. This isn't about penance and impudence. This guy was a victim of our serial killer. He was clean, wasn't he?"

Ryohei cleared his throat. "Yeah, actually he was. Tox screen came back negative except for extremely small traces of etorphine. Here's the report," Ryohei said, pulling a file out of another file and handing it to Hayato. "The full autopsy report is in there too."

Hayato opened the folder and scanned the documents. He knew what etorphine was, it was a powerful sedative used to incapacitate large animals such as elephants and was only used by veterinarians. Another clue about the killer. He wasn't looking too calculated after all.

The autopsy showed that Kusakabe had found bruising around an injection site at the base of the neck on the victim. This was the first time the killer had used a sedative and left behind such evidence, it almost appeared to be uncharacteristic and sloppy.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner, lawn head?"

Ryohei eyed him. "Sawada told me not to bother you. But... looking over that evidence, I'm extremely sure this kill is the work of a copy cat. Wouldn't you agree?"

Hayato tossed the file back on Ryohei's desk. "No, it isn't. The first three were easy marks, easy kills. The perp had no trouble subduing his victims and killing them. This guy, Ikeda Nosaru, put up a fight. He wasn't that easy to kill. Kusakabe also mentions the hesitation marks on the neck below the decapitation site. That means for some reason he second guessed killing him. Then the fact that he missed the tattoo, he was panicked and rushed, perhaps pressed for time or regretting his decision. Regardless, this job seems a little more personal than the first three. We have to find out more about this guy's life. He's the key to catching this fucker."

"Ah... that's a good point, to the extreme. But here's my theory. Since they've all been murdered in the same fashion and taking in to consideration the drugs found in his apartment, I'm thinkin' that this is a rival gang thing."

Hayato thought about it. Possible, but unlikely. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

Ryohei gestured to the stack of files on his desk. "Me and Hibari went over the other cases. The bodies were all found in areas around Sakura Town. So, the killer probably operates from there. Also, since all the other victims had large amounts of skin removed to the extreme and we know now that it's probably to hide tattoos and other markings, then these guys are all probably affiliated with the yakuza."

Hayato worked the theory out in his brain. Surprisingly, it made sense. Kusakabe had placed age from early to late twenties for all male victims. They knew Ikeda Nosaru was a younger member of the _Hakai Dirā. _They had all been killed in the same manner, except Ikeda's murder seemed more personal, suggesting that the killer either knew him or sympathized with him. If Hayato ran with the stolen drugs theory, it was plausible that Ikeda was murdered for stealing drugs either from a rival gang or his own.

Then there was the informant's information. True he was a heroin in addict so Hayato was taking a big leap in buying into his possible bullshit, but he knew the drug trade in Sakura Town. People talked to him because he was fucked up and either figured he'd forget or they trusted him. There was a man that didn't have a name that patrolled the streets down there with a katana slung over his shoulder; though Kusakabe hadn't been able to determine what the weapon was and neither could the forensic team, both agreed that the the patterns left behind on the stumps were all left by the same weapon.

"If this is true, we'll need to see the _Hakai _boss," Hayato remarked finally.

Ryohei laughed. "Dude, that's impossible. He'll never talk to us. We won't even be able to get near him."

"Well we'll have to find a way. This may be the work of a yakuza hitman."

* * *

Though he had been told to stay home, Hayato had convinced Tsuna to let him stay and work on the leads with Ryohei. Around four thirty pm, Tsuna requested that they meet up with him at a upscale coffee shop, where he'd introduce them to the Public Security Bureau agent that would be working on the case with them.

Hayato was reluctant, he didn't like to share but he had already given Tsuna more than enough trouble in the last few days so he was just going to shut his mouth and comply. Upon arriving at the coffee shop just outside Namimori Middle, Ryohei had to leave on personal matter which left Hayato to fend for himself. In his own way, he was glad that he didn't have to have the embarrassment of his overly excited partner jabbering about boxing to the unsuspecting agent.

When he got there, Hayato was relieved that the coffee shop had a smoking section. He was a little weary at first because he wasn't quite sure why they were meeting at a swank coffee shop to discuss details about the case when the agent could have just come to the precinct.

He was nervous about meeting the agent because he knew right away how he'd react. Hayato doesn't like to share his things, his cases are personal and he is always the mastermind. Having someone from the bureau butt in on his territory and take matters into their own hands pissed him right off. He didn't like authority figures, especially ones that abused their power and Hayato found most bureau agents were dicks with a God complex that he really wanted to punch. What made him nervous was that he couldn't lose his cool in front of Tsuna, which he had no guarantee that he wouldn't.

Hayato lit a cigarette and let out a shaky breath. He scanned the coffee shop patrons for his boss but couldn't see him in the sea of faces. He did however see a rather alluring woman with pale skin and black hair; long bangs covering her face and a tuft of hair that spiked at the crown. He followed a long but thin trail of hair that curved around her shoulder and noticed she was completely flat chested.

Pulling on his cigarette and squinting, he realized that the rather alluring female was actually a rather alluring male; tall and slender with an elegant structured jawline and his lips were curved into a subtle and sly grin. When the man tilted his head to the side, Hayato could see that his hair wasn't black. It was actually blue, reflecting the light in several hues like a monochromatic wave.

He was talking to someone and Hayato couldn't help but stare at the man's captivating beauty. This man had initially gotten his attention, in a way that Yamamoto had and he found himself analyzing his every move for a good five minutes. During the course of that five minutes, Hayato could tell that the man was playful and coy but his aura screamed arrogance and narcissism. The way his lips moved, never diminishing the sly curl of his mouth told Hayato that he was a flirt, seductive by nature. The grin also told Hayato that this man wasn't to be trusted; it read deceit and dishonesty.

The way the man casually laid his chin the the palm of his hand, leaning in close and listening intently showed Hayato that he found his partner to be rather amusing, interesting to say the least. Occasionally the hand would disappear and return, and Hayato could only guess that he was reaching out to grasp the arm or hand of whoever he sat across from, a tactic to show whoever he was with that he was interested in them, not just the conversation.

However, despite the man's flirtatious and playful nature, Hayato found the man to be exuding malevolence. He was definitely a creature to be wary of and the pseudo smile the man had plastered to his face made Hayato's skin crawl.

Tearing his gaze from the perplexing male, he turned to the counter and ordered his coffee. He was about to pay for it when someone spoke over his shoulder, soft and frolicsome. It made his skin crawl because behind the façade of his tone was maleficence.

"Gokudera Hayato, I presume?"

Hayato turned and was face to face with the man with the monochromatic hair. His proximity was too close for comfort and the way his strikingly sharp sapphire eyes bore into his with that all-knowing smirk made Hayato feel like he was two feet tall and his skin feel like it was crawling with a million hissing cockroaches.

Hayato has never been intimidated in his life. Not by his father or sadistic step mother, not by his perverted sister or the mafia thugs of Palermo but this man... this man made Hayato's gut twist in knots and made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. Still, a man has to have his pride and luckily for him, the barista in the swanky coffee shop interrupts the awkward moment to announce his coffee is ready.

"Kufufu," the man laughs. "I'll take care of that, Gokudera Hayato. Perhaps you should say hello to your boss. You're late."

Hayato is speechless as he takes the coffee but slams the change down on the counter for emphasis. He will not have this swine paying for anything he's drinking. Something tells him that even a simple gesture like buying someone's coffee, this man will hold you to a favor in return later on.

"Kufufu," he laughs again, this time with a little disdain. Nevertheless, the eerie grin spreads wider on his face as he gestures to the table where he and Tsuna had been sitting.

Sudden realization hit when Hayato remembered just moments before he had been sizing up this man and the way he had been flirting with the other person who sat at the table. _His boss._ Not just his boss, his _friend._ Hayato became angry, seething in fact, when he recalled the passes he ever so bluntly made towards Tsuna. The tenth was too kind of a man to reject anything, even if it made him uncomfortable. He was weak-hearted and this man was pushy, overbearing and he made _Hayato _uncomfortable. He imagined his humble boss, flustered and fidgeting at the blue haired man's advances and he reached for the gun holstered on his hip. How _dare _he take advantage of the tenth's good nature and make him feel awkward with his overpowering aura.

Hayato was not jealous in any way, don't misunderstand. He is not in love with Tsuna nor does he have any romantic feelings towards him. He never has. The bond he shared was akin to a god and it's followers. Tsuna was his saint and savior and he admired him devotedly. However, because of this, Hayato is immensely overprotective of his kind-hearted, naïve friend not to mention he is naturally possessive. He is disgusted to have witnessed such an open display of disrespect for another one's personal space, especially _his friend's_. He knows all too well what it looked like to seduce a man, especially a weaker and inferior target. It shamed him to think of it now, but he himself was guilty of this technique.

He remained tight lipped, his anger permeating his bones and making them ache, but he refused to make a scene and embarrass the tenth more than he possibly was and more than _he_ already had. Hayato scowled at the man, who's grin remained stretched out on the ever so mocking face, and made his way to the table where his boss sat.

"Ah, Gokudera-kun, I'm glad you could have made it." Tsuna's brown eyes were wide and round, gleaming with sincerity. Hayato made note of the slight dusting of rose across his cheeks and his rage continued to boil.

"S-sorry I'm late, Tenth. Lawn -"

"Sasagawa-san."

"- Head had some personal business to take care of. I thought we were meeting a PSB agent?" Hayato hid his bitterness in the equal bitter blackness of his coffee.

Tsuna smiled warily. "Haha, yes. You've just met him. Gokudera-kun, this is the Tokyo branch's PSB agent, Rokudo Mukuro."

Mukuro took a seat with a very fancy beverage with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle piled high on top of what looked like either hot chocolate or chocolate flavoured espresso.

Hayato stifled an eye roll at how cliché the frilly drink was compared to a gay man. Hayato isn't homophobic nor would he ever slander someone with derogatory remarks regarding their sexuality, but he figures being gay himself gives him liberation to poke fun at the stereotypes. And _clearly _this man was gay, he was all but eye fucking Tsuna from across the table and Hayato resisted the urge to fire a bullet through his balls underneath their marble top table.

"It's certainly a pleasure to finally meet the infamous Gokudera Hayato of the Namimori Middle Police Department. I've heard astounding things about your work, detective," Mukuro purred. He canted his head to the left inquiringly and Hayato caught a red glint in his right eye. A trickery of lighting perhaps but Hayato wasn't convinced. His right eye definitely shimmered from blue to red.

"Yeah, pleasure's all mine," he grunted.

"Oya, what a somber human you have working for you, Sawada Tsunayoshi."

Tsuna laughed uncomfortably. "He's alright, Mukuro."

_First name basis,_ Hayato thought bitterly. _Just how familiar are these two?_

"Kufufu, I'm sure that he is. Anyhow, my presence in the dreadful district is due to the interest the bureau has taken in this Headless Samurai case."

"Headless... Samurai case?"

Mukuro turned his head towards Tsuna and grinned. "Ah yes, that's the name your fine journalists have coined the killer. You haven't been very apt about keeping details out of public knowledge, Sawada Tsunayoshi."

Hayato grit his teeth. "That damned woman. And you Mukuro-"

"It's fine, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna cut in. "Mukuro, we held a press conference last night and we were very discrete. If the public is giving a name to the suspect, it's through their own observations by word of mouth and not from my officers."

Mukuro hummed. "Regardless, we now have jurisdiction to oversee this case. Four murders with the same _modus operandi _is cause for our intervention. The perpetrator has now become a serial killer."

Hayato drowned another snarky remark in the depths of his coffee cup while Tsuna nodded.

"I understand. Any help the PSB can offer us on apprehending the suspect will be greatly appreciated."

"Oya? What have your officers been doing as of late? Perhaps they're too busy frequenting coffee shops like this one-"

Hayato scoffed.

Mukuro's playful eyes narrowed and he glared at Hayato. "Or perhaps they're too busy frequenting dim lighted bars where cheap alcohol and poor decisions are made," he said smugly.

Hayato knew this comment was directed at him. Mukuro couldn't have gotten any more personal with the descriptions of the dives he visits nightly. The fact that he knew such personal things about Hayato's life had him seeing red.

He was grounded though when Tsuna interjected politely but sternly. "My men are all good men, Mukuro. You of all people should know that. What they do on their off time is their business but I can _assure _you that they devote every second of the time they do have to this case. It hasn't been easy, there haven't been many leads due to the lack of evidence -"

"Oyaoya, making excuses for your incompetent department, Sawada Tsunayoshi?" Mukuro's tone was playful yet laced with ignorance. It made Hayato grip the butt of his gun until his knuckles hurt.

"Don't you dare insult the Tenth and his ability to run our department," Hayato growled.

"Kufufu, I can see why you wanted this man here. He's quite the loyal dog," Mukuro remarked.

Hayato jolted out of his seat. "Alright, that's it, you pineapple fucker! I'm -"

"Gokudera-kun, sit down!"

Mukuro narrowed his eyes and this time his right eye was a definite scarlet. "Oya? What did you just say?"

"I called you a pineapple fucker, fucker. Your hair looks stupid, like a pineapple!" Hayato hissed, fist raised. He didn't care at all how childish he sounded at the moment.

"Kufu... what an insolent brat," Mukuro remarked, easing back in his seat with nonchalance.

There was a desperate tug on Hayato's sleeve. "Gokudera-kun, please sit down. You're drawing the attention of the other customers."

Hayato looked down at his boss and saw the red hue in his cheeks. He instantly felt a pang of regret and shame. He clapped his hands together and bowed. "I... I'm terribly sorry, Tenth. I've managed to shame you again. I'm sorry, I'm -"

Tsuna gave him a weary smile. "Enough, please. Just sit down and let's discuss this as adults, okay?"

Hayato nodded and shot a warning glare in Mukuro's direction. He wore a triumphant grin, seemingly pleased to have gotten such a reaction. Hayato sat back down and lit a cigarette, inhaling the poisonous smoke desperately. How he wanted to kill this man...

Mukuro casually draped an arm across Tsuna's shoulders. "Kufufu, you really do have a remarkable subordinate here, Sawada Tsunayoshi. I'm almost jealous."

_Don't get any ideas, pineapple freak, _Hayato thought angrily, twitching his leg and mercilessly dragging on his cigarette. It was obvious that the pineapple snake was here for one reason only and that was to get into his boss's pants. Hayato was disgusted.

Tsuna let out a nervous laugh and proceeded to explain the current situation, stammering his way through while Mukuro continued making comments that were of bad taste.

He kept his mouth shut, his rage and impatience growing by the minute and with every inappropriate pass Mukuro made towards the tenth.

Every so often Mukuro would glance over at Hayato with a smug smirk and mischievous glint in his heterochromatic eyes. It made Hayato envision several ways to skewer those eyes with hot pokers or possibly a toothpick, anything to wipe that arrogance off his face.

The conversation had taken longer than it should have and at some point, Hayato had stopped listening, his mind wandering to a certain reporter he'd much rather be in the company of. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, it wasn't that he wanted to actually _spend _time with that guy. He was stressed out between the case and his sister and now his boss and this pineapple bastard. When cigarettes didn't do the trick he relied on alcohol and now since he had already embarrassed the tenth enough with his actions, the next best thing would be to fuck someone He needed to relieve the tension and pent up frustration and the only way he knew how other than emptying his bullets into the source of his rage was to just fuck someone senseless. And since he wasn't able to go to the bars he liked because _someone _had been following him, the only choice that left him was Yamamoto.

Hayato was jarred out of his thoughts when Mukuro reached out a gloved hand and curled it around Tsuna's chin, shamelessly tilting it his favorable direction. The tenth seemed bashful and flustered and he currently had a hand rested affectionately on Mukuro's other arm.

If Hayato didn't know any better, he'd say they were lovers. Well, let's face it, he really didn't know any better, did he? No. Hayato didn't know anything about his boss's personal life and he never pried either. But a revelation like this... he would never have thought his boss was gay. He even dated Sasagawa's sister for a few years in college. And Hayato thought they had broken up because she moved to study abroad.

_Just how well acquainted are these two?_

Eveeytime Mukuro would casually touch his arm, Tsuna would return the touch by carefully squeezing his hand affectionately. Snapping out of his daze, Hayato narrowed his eyes and nearly reached across the table to pry that slithering snake's slimy hands off his boss when the caught the end of their conversation.

"- dont act shy its not like I dont know you're into that, kufufu .. Especially when you come to me for it."

Tsuna pulled away, eyes wide but a tell tale streak of vermilion cast across his boss's cheeks and he stuttered in surprise. "M-Mukuro!"

Hayato's blood ran cold. He gripped the butt of his gun and pictured putting a bullet straight through this sickly sly bastard's pineapple head, and he probably would have had he not thought about what the Tenth would say to that. _What exactly is their relationship?_

He was silently brooding the possibilities when his green orbs caught the mismatching pair of red and blue. His entire body shuddered as that fucking pineapple snake chuckled. He was being mocked alright and this fucker was so open about it, it really got under his skin. Began to eat away at his sanity, his fingers itching to pull the trigger on his AutoMag.

"Kufufufu! Tsunayoshi, you are simply too fun to play with. I am really enjoying myself just a little too much," Mukuro said amusingly.

_Maybe a little __**too **__much, pineapple bastard._

Hayato scoffed. "This isn't the place for you to be so casually friendly with the tenth, you sly fuck. He has a reputation to uphold and you're greasy hands have been all over him for the better part of an hour," Hayato hissed, finally loosing control of his tongue.

"Oya? Is the loyal dog jealous?" Mukuro remarked with that eerie chuckle.

"Gokudera-kun, please. It isn't what you think," the Tenth said, abashed.

Hayato had seen and heard enough. Quite frankly he was sick to his stomach, this man was untrustworthy and dangerous and he didn't want his boss anywhere near him. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it, other than warn him.

"Tenth, this man is deceitful. Please be careful."

"Go-Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna looked up at him as he stood, inquisitively.

"I'm sorry, Tenth, but I must excuse myself. I really should be getting back to work."

"Oya? Or is that back to the bottle, Gokudera-_kun_?"

"Mukuro, that's enough!" Tsuna said, looking over at the smirking agent.

Hayato clenched his fists, visualizing the fourth... or was it fifth? way of killing this fucker but he refused to give in to this bastard's trickery and make a fool out of himself. Or a fool out of his boss. "Really, it's fine, Tenth. We have some leads we'd like to follow up on, so I'll be keeping busy. Please excuse me."

Tsuna frowned slightly and Hayato could see a passing sadness in his eyes. It panged Hayato with guilt and regret and he hated to have to leave his precious friend in the clutches of this devilish man but he couldn't afford to shame him anymore. And the tenth had made his own decision, no? It wasn't Hayato's place to tell him who he could be involved with. He considered it very disrespectful to give his boss relationship advice when he himself was all kinds of fucked up.

"Well, I'll expect to see full detailed reports on your desk in the morning, Gokudera Hayato. I'll be taking them to my hotel to review later on. I refuse to surround myself around bottom feeding law enforcement." Mukuro glanced up at Hayato, shit eating smirk and all and waited for Hayato's explosive reaction. Except at that moment, Hayato had been thinking of a warm arm of a certain reporter wrapped around him and it grounded him. He wasn't going to give this slimy, distasteful man the satisfaction of riling him up.

Instead, Hayato gave Tsuna his best smile and a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. "I'll call you later on this evening, Tenth."

Tsuna smiled warmly in return and then shifted his gaze uncomfortably to Mukuro. "I'm sorry about all that, Gokudera-kun. Mukuro... has an acquired personality. I've known him for a few years through cases we've worked and..."

Hayato smiled one last time before leaving the table. "It's really okay, Tenth. You needn't explain yourself nor that pineapple snake to me. Just be careful."

And before Mukuro could come back with a _k__ufufufu _and a remark that would make Hayato undoubtedly empty his magazine into his slender frame, he quickly retreated to his car, lighting a cigarette and punching the dashboard for good measure. He'd bite his tongue for now but if Mukuro allowed for their relationship to interfere with _his_ case, there would be no way Hayato could let that slide. And if Mukuro did one thing to upset or hurt his friend in anyway, he had better believe that he'd be facing _l'ira della tempesta_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Special thanks to my lovely babu, Haya-chan! She was my Mukuro muse for this chapter and she created the coffee shop scene. She was the mastermind behind this chapter! I love you ! xo

Also, thanks Lo-chan for the translation! She's my Italian beauty! xo


	9. Book I : My Saint : Chapter IX

_**Chapter IX**_

* * *

The sun was beginning to set behind the Namimori skyline and Hayato just continued to drive aimlessly through the streets. He didn't want to go home. He had no patience for his sister's wanton mannerisms and Ryohei was still busy.

He went over the theories they had come up with earlier in the day and the one thing Hayato concluded was that he needed to talk to the _Hakai_ _Dīrā._Their boss was a dangerous man by the name of Tomakazu Tosaru, with a wrap sheet long enough to cover Namimori Middle District three times at least. And the _only_ reason he hadn't been locked up, Hayato was sure, was because of meddlesome dipshits like Rokudo Mukuro and the lawyers and judges that were bought with money and drugs and the fine courtesans of Sakura Town.

Sakura Town had its own laws that were beyond the actual law that Tsuna tried so hard to uphold within this corrupt city. The people of Sakura Town made up their own rules and regulations and abided by them because if they didn't, the two most influential yakuza gangs would interfere. The people that committed crimes in Sakura Town were _untouchable _by the definite laws of Namimori Middle District and were only punished by their own in a way the yakuza saw fit.

The courtesans were not typical and average prostitutes. They did not stand on the street corners and flag down cars or whisper lustful obscenities in the ears of desperate men in dark alleyways. They were often beautiful and exquisite creatures hand picked by the yakuza bosses themselves because after all, they were the _true _currency of that pleasure district. They were made into formidable geisha, with elegant silk kimonos of rich emeralds, ruby and sapphire trimmed with the finest golds and ivory. Their long flowing locks were piled high atop their heads, weaved around like soft black rope pinned with the most elaborate and eloquent jeweled hair sticks. Their bodies were like the most beautiful sakura; the _somei yoshino_, fully bloomed to the purest white so much so, their skin shone in the moonlight.

Though these women might seem lowly to any outsider, they were the safest and most protected citizens of this town. The yakuza would not allow a vile hand to touch them unmannerly and without cause. And more importantly, without the right kind of offer. Still, they were of high value held upon pedestals and the normal laws of prostitution didn't apply to them. And honestly, Hayato didn't seem to have a problem with this. It wasn't that he condoned prostitution, but it was they way the yakuza treated these women that made Hayato feel like if they were if fact going to seek a life in this profession then this would be the right place to be. The _safest_ place to be.

Hayato's view of the law was conflicted. He was a man that struggled to believe in its power to right the wrongs in the world. He came from a dark place where the mafia was law, and the mafia had its _own_ laws too. People who went against the law were killed, as were the people here in Namimori Middle.

Hayato wondered if he'd ever be able to escape the world that had no sense of moral in right and wrong. He wondered if he could ever find somewhere that didn't take the law into their own hands. It wasn't vigilantism, there was nothing good behind the actions of these men. Everything they did was for power and status and if not that, it was for money and drugs.

Hayato has often thought about becoming a sort of vigilante himself, which is where lays the confliction. He _is _a man of the law, he has taken an oath and has devoted himself to following the ideals of his beloved boss who is striving to make Namimori a better place. However he sees that despite Tsuna's best efforts, the city is still vile and corrupt because _everyone _here believes they are above the law.

Murderers and rapists, thugs and drug pushers, pedophiles and human traffickers are all released from their lowly cages deep within Tsuna's rightful justice system if their price was right, if their offer was enticing enough. It make Hayato sick to his stomach, made his blood boil with unadulterated rage to the point where he often fought the urge to take the law in to _his _own hands and _do_ something about it all but that was not the way of the Tenth. That isn't the way he would do things because he believed in what was right, in proper judgment and he still had blind faith in their justice system.

So Hayato worked hard for his boss, he brought those named criminals down and allowed them to worm their way through the vines and if he was lucky enough the conviction stuck. Or they managed to slip through the cracks on various _technicalities _only for them to end up dead a few days later courtesy of some pissed off yakuza gang. When Hayato wasn't lucky, it was the criminals involved in the gangs themselves that got away with whatever they wanted and that didn't bode well with him.

Regardless, he will continue to serve Tsuna on his path to righteousness because he wanted that too. He wanted to erase the ways of the mafia, the mob, the yakuza and whatever else held the ideals that they were above and beyond the laws of man. He _needed _to, to repent for the life he had left behind in Italy, to repent for his father and sister's sins and finally to make up for his mother's tragic and untimely death.

By the time he had gotten to Sakura Town, the sun had sunk low in the sky and the dark hues of night streaked the sky. He knew all too well how reckless it was to roam the streets of Sakura Town after dark and it wasn't because of the courtesans, it wasn't because of the insignificant thugs in the lower ranks of the yakuza gangs or even the gang wars themselves. It was because he was a cop and not just any cop, he was known as _the_ _loyal bakufu dog_ which he had been coined because of his devotion to Tsuna and in respects to Tsuna's peaceful and prosperous ways of handling the law. He was hated, feared and loathed by the members of Sakura Town and Hayato often believed that they would try to kill him if they ever got the chance. Without Hayato, they believed that Tsuna's weak and meager nature would be all too easy to overrule and then Namimori Middle District would be at the mercy of Sakura Town once more.

Speaking of which, didn't that pineapple snake call him a loyal dog too? And in such a condescending manner too...

Parking his car on the outskirts, he exited it and lit a cigarette. As reckless as it was, Hayato needed answers and this roundabout bullshit didn't jive well with him. He was going to talk to someone, arrange a meeting with the _Hakai _boss; let them know he came in peace despite the thick coating of bile that slicked his tongue for even suggesting that as leeway.

He began the long walk into Sakura Town, the citizens unfortunate to live in this part of the city because rent was cheap but came with higher price, had already locked up shop for the night and were currently hiding away in their humble abodes.

Hayato didn't see much life on the streets yet, this was the safer part of the town. His gait had a certain kind of swagger to it, enhanced by his slight bow-leggedness and long, lanky frame. His strut was often seen as arrogant and prideful, exuding it well through his aura too. It made him a very unapproachable person to say the least and Hayato liked it that way.

His silver hair was cast over his face, hooding his alabaster complexion and tell tale jade eyes. Though it didn't help that his hair in itself was a rarity and a surefire way to announce his presence in this forsaken town.

He passed a few tattooed thugs on his way into the heart of Sakura Town. They sneered and muttered things under their breath but Hayato paid them no heed. They weren't important enough to know anything or even pass a message along so he refused to get himself involved with these assholes.

As he walked deeper in, he felt the heated glare of many of the petty criminals that roamed the streets, huddled in groups of threes and fours, just enough to make them look intimidating and just enough to gang up on some poor passerby or citizen that wasn't smart enough to hide away from this sin city.

He passed several brothels where beautiful _oiran_ sat proudly and elegantly on their balconies for display. There was a strict look but don't touch policy when it came to these women and you couldn't just hope to crash into a brothel and smack down some yen on a counter and demand pleasurable service. These women were like fine china, only reserved for the most important and prosperous clientele.

Needless to say, it didn't stop some from following Hayato with their lust pooled eyes as he was a beautiful rarity himself. He couldn't talk as freely to them as he wanted to and he had no idea how Sasagawa managed to. Nearing the heart of Sakura Town, Hayato passed an alley where out of his peripheral vision he saw a group of five or six heavily tatted men surrounding some unfortunate scoundrel, threatening the life who ever stood in the middle. They were currently all kicking the shit out of whomever it was and Hayato inwardly sighed. Stopping to decide whether he should interfere, he noticed a large sideways diamond shaped tattoo with what appeared to be the kanji for _Hakai Dīrā._ Well never mind him being a cop, he most certainly had to interfere now. He had wanted to stay out of the business he saw down here, forcefully turning a blind eye to the illegal activities his sharp aquatic eyes witnessed but seeing how heavily tattooed these men were let Hayato know they were higher ranked soldiers, just the kind of men he needed to have a chat with.

"Oi," he cut in. "Having a lovers quarrel of sorts?"

The men turned to him, gaudy leers on their faces and crude weapons in hand.

"Oya, look what we have here... It's the bakufu dog," one of them sneered. He had a large dug out scar running from his ear to his chin and Hayato barely noticed it through the ink on his face.

The men in the group snickered and Hayato chimed in along with them. They instantly stopped and narrowed their eyes at him. He amusingly though they all were working off one united brain with how in sync their movements were.

"It's such a beautiful night and I see you're enjoying yourselves and I'd hate to break up your beat down party but I was wondering if perhaps one of you gentlemen would love to have a little chat with me," Hayato said nonchalantly.

The man with the scar laughed dryly. "Are you fucking joking? You must be. None of us would be caught dead with you, although we wouldn't mind being caught with a _dead_ you. There's a hefty price on your head, bakufu dog."

Hayato strained, without being too obvious, to see the person within the crowd but they remained silent and the men remained in tight formation around them.

Hayato smirked and rested his hand on the butt of his gun jutting out of it's holster on his angular hip. "Why sir, are you threatening an officer of the law?"

The scarred thug snorted. "It's not a threat. We could easily take you out and quietly dispose of your body and no one would be the wiser. You of all people should know that."

Hayato hummed. "I suppose you're right, that is a possibility. But not to toot my own horn or anything," he said with a laugh, "but I'm an _excellent _marksman."

The men in the crowd began muttering and shouting until the man with the scar raised a hand to silence them. It appeared he was their leader, or at least someone of higher ranking and Hayato knew this was the person he should be talking to.

"What are you doing here?" he asked seriously, narrowing his eyes and grimacing.

"Well you see, kind thug-san, I need to arrange a meeting with your boss -"

The men behind their leader erupted with laughter until he turned to glare at them and they were silenced once more.

It began to make Hayato nervous that the person hadn't called out or begged for salvation. Hayato figured they were smart enough to stay put and shut up for fear of their life, or that they were dead. And if it were the latter, then this exchange would prove to be quite a hassle for him.

"You know that you won't get near him," the leader said smugly. "You'll have a bullet in every vital organ of your body before you leave here. I've already told you the people here want you dead and will pay handsomely for your head on a platter."

Hayato laughed. This was all so amusing to him. He was a cop and his life was so boldly being threatened right here in the open. Not for one minute did he ever think they weren't telling the truth, but the irony of it all was what made him giddy. "Speaking of heads, I wanted to talk about Ikeda Nosaru. He was a part of your gang, he showed up dead two days ago just outside town. Any of you know how?"

The scarred man reached behind his back for his weapon and Hayato gripped his.

"Are you really going to make me remove my gun? That's awfully mean of you, thug-san. Do you have any idea how meddlesome the paperwork is for just pulling it out of -"

The leader of the small _Hakai _gang brazenly pulled out his gun and pointed it at Hayato.

With the same timing, Hayato pulled out his AutoMag and pointed it at the thug.

"Enough talking," he snapped. "I'll give you a fair warning _only _because you came here on business and not to stick your nose in our affairs. However, if you continue to fuck around here, you're gonna end up dead."

Hayato latched off the safety on his gun and smirked. "And I am giving _you_ ample warning that before you squeeze that trigger, I'll put a bullet in each one of your skulls and you'll drop like the vile flies that you are. _Capiche_?"

The scarred man didn't make a move to lower his gun and they stood at a stalemate for a minute that to Hayato felt like an eternity. He wasn't kidding when he said that he was an excellent marksman and that he indeed would be able to shoot them all but he'd rather not have to explain to the Tsuna why there were six dead bodies at his feet and possibly ruin his chances at getting a meeting with Tomakazu.

Eventually the leader snarled and lowered his weapon. "I'm going to forget that you said that. You'd better hope you make it out of here alive, bakufu dog."

"Make sure you arrange that meeting, thug-san. Tell your boss I'll bring tea," Hayato offered with a sly smirk.

"Fuck you," the scarred man spit out. He motioned to his posse and they leered at Hayato before they sauntered down the alley in the opposite direction, leaving the body of the person they had been relentlessly beating moments before Hayato arrived.

Taking a moment to slip his gun back in its holster after flicking the safety back on, Hayato squinted at the back of the person lying on the asphalt. They were definitely male and Hayato took a tentative step forward wondering if the smaller gang of men had actually left the alley and if he should let his guard down to help this man. With another step forward, Hayato saw something that made a nonsensical dread creep up his ribs from the pit of his stomach. He couldn't understand where this emotion came from because Hayato really never gets scared but this feeling was undeniably fear.

He didn't hesitate to quickly close the gap between himself and the limp body on the ground. The fear grew in it's intensity as he noticed the shallow rise and fall of the all too familiar back in front of him. Pushing it down and trying to rationalize it at the same time proved difficult and he fell to his knees and quickly felt for a pulse. There was no relief when he felt the light but still pulsing vein because that's when he became aware of a small pool of blood seeping out from the underside.

He cursed under his breath and just to make sure what he was seeing was an actual reality, he gripped the shoulder of the man and turned him over slowly on to his back. With little effort the man rolled over and Hayato's breath hitched in his throat as his irrational fear was validated.

Bleeding out from a stab wound to his abdomen and heavily bruised and broken was none other than the reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi.


	10. Book I : My Saint : Chapter X

_**Chapter X**_

* * *

Hayato really can't say how he managed to drag Yamamoto's unconscious body out of Sakura Town and into his car. Call it some kind of adrenaline rush, you know, the one you get when your fear takes over and superhuman strength kicks into gear in that dangerous kind of situation. Maybe it wasn't dangerous for Hayato, but he was overwhelmed with emotions he didn't even know he had as he hoisted the taller and heavier man on to his back. He prayed that all the thugs would have somewhere else to be so that he wasn't taken advantage of or worse, killed, while he was vulnerable. God must have been listening because Hayato didn't see another soul save the courtesans on their balconies while he trudged his way out of Sakura Town.

Driving rapidly through the streets with his siren blaring, which he _hated _to use and ignoring red lights and traffic signs, Hayato couldn't decide where to take Yamamoto. He wasn't sure how bad his injuries were internally but the stab wound to his abdomen luckily was shallow. He warred with his conscience for the better half of the drive. He kept thinking not a hospital, because he couldn't very well explain what he had been doing in Sakura Town without a partner to Tsuna and he wanted Yamamoto to explain how the _hell _he ended up there before anyone had the chance to coerce him into false story.

He knew how to treat the mild lacerations and abrasions, even the shallow stab wound but he'd have to figure out if Yamamoto had any broken or cracked ribs and any internal bleeding. Taking a sideways glance in his direction, the taught expression of panic that has never marred Hayato's otherwise stoic face worked itself into one of anger as he drank in the sight of Yamamoto slumped against the passenger side door, still bleeding but breathing. He was angry with him, the stupid idiot going down there _alone_, not protected or armed poking his reporter nose where it didn't belong. But he was absolutely _furious _at those fucking bastards that did this to him and livid towards the stupid bitch that likely put him up to it.

He guessed the the logical (if you could call it logical) side of him won the war when he pulled into his driveway. He jolted from his car and raced to the passenger side, gingerly pulling Yamamoto from the seat. He managed to carry him to the door, opening it and carried him to his black leather sofa.

He checked Yamamoto's pulse again and it hadn't weakened yet so he hurried to the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors to cut Yamamoto's shirt open and then to the bathroom to get medical supplies.

He grabbed hold of Yamamoto's shirt and started cutting, being careful not to graze the sensitive bruised skin with the blades. Once open, Hayato took a towel and applied pressure with one hand and grabbed a bottle of peroxide with the other, twisting off the cap with his teeth. Hayato then removed the towel and grabbed a cotton swab and wiped the wound. It bubbled puss and Hayato bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep a slew of colourful angry curses from escaping them. It must've been a dirty raunchy knife that cut him. He fucking hated those bastards for taking advantage of Yamamoto like that, just who the hell did they think they were? How was ganging up and beating a defenseless man who was too stupid and naïve for his own good justifiable?

The bleeding slowed down and Hayato cleaned it once last time, hoping that the burn would elicit a hiss from Yamamoto but there wasn't even a wince. He was still unconscious. Hayato swabbed his own bloody hands and opened a sterile needle. He proceeded to lace the sutures through Yamamoto's flesh, closing the wound as tightly as possible. He dressed the wound and began cleaning the other cuts and he would never admit it, hell he didn't even realize it at the time, but his touch was gentle and almost loving while tending to him.

"Who is _that_?"

Hayato's head jolted up and he saw his sister exiting his bedroom and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting she was here.

"A guy," he answered curtly.

Bianchi, who was actually dressed decently in loose pajama pants and one of Hayato's t-shirts, rolled her eyes and padded over to the sofa.

"I can _see _that, brother. I mean, who is that and why is he on our couch?"

Hayato noted she had used _our_ to describe _his _sofa but decided against complaining about it. "He's a reporter that I met a few days ago. I found him like this in a really bad part of the city."

Bianchi scoffed. "So you just figured you'd bring him home with you instead of to a hospital?"

Hayato glared at his sister over Yamamoto's body and the sofa. "Shut up, sis. I need to wake him up. Do you have anything with you?"

Bianchi looked at him with puzzlement. "Hayato, I don't know-"

Hayato growled. "Bianchi, I know you carry poisons with you all the time. Do you have anything else with you? Like fuck, I don't know... smelling salts?"

Bianchi stared at him for a moment before her face lit up. "Oh! Yes, actually I have some ammonium carbonate I can concoct into a mixture for something like that. Give me a sec."

"Remind me later to question you why you have chemical compounds that you carry around with you so leisurely and then remind me of how and why you aren't the one that poisoned your husbands," Hayato said sourly, placing the last bit of gauze across a deep gash on Yamamoto's chin.

Bianchi sighed. "And you remind me later of why you're so cruel to your big sister when all I've ever been to you is loving," she replied, walking back into Hayato's bedroom.

"You poisoned me several times as a kid, asshole! Tell me how that's love!" Hayato called after her as he picked up the mass of bloodied towels, cotton swabs and discarded gauze.

"It was an accident, brother!" she yelled from the bedroom.

Hayato closed his mouth from further bantering and knelt down beside Yamamoto again, his eyes roaming over the stilled body on his sofa and when he looked up at Yamamoto's face, a sharp pain shot across his chest. Yamamoto's face was contorted in agony, even though he was unconscious but yet all Hayato saw when he looked at him was the happy and innocent man he met in the coffee shop. The alluring and challenging man he sat with at the bar and the lustful yet somewhat... _adorable _man he was with in the motel room earlier this morning.

Feelings that Hayato has never felt nor knew he had and quite frankly didn't know what to call them, began to take hold of him, making him feel a little uneasy and angry all at the same time. Still, he found himself reaching out a heavily ring-adorned, hesitant and rather shaky hand to card through Yamamoto's thick raven hair when Bianchi came strolling out of his bedroom, causing him to violently snatch his hand back once reality sunk in and he remembered who he was and who the man on the couch was.

Just a one night stand. Nothing more.

"Here," Bianchi said, producing a vial and handing it to Hayato. "This should work."

Hayato took the vial and muttered thanks as he wafted the mixture under Yamamoto's nose. With a sharp inhale and a groan a few seconds later, Yamamoto's eyes fluttered open. Hayato watched him blink repetitiously and Bianchi leaned over the couch to peer down into the reporter's face.

"Will you give him some fucking space?" Hayato growled.

She looked over at him and shrugged. "Sorry, I was curious. What's his name?"

Yamamoto instinctively tried to sit up and he instantly hissed at the pain from the movement. He laid back down and rubbed his eyes. "Go... Gokudera?" he muttered thickly, clearly confused as to how he ended up here.

Hayato sighed. "Yeah, it's me... You're in my house. You're pretty fucked up. Does it hurt anywhere, any sharp pains while you're breathing?"

Yamamoto looked over at Hayato who was still crouched on the wooden floor in front of the sofa and shook his head slowly.

"Other than your stab wound, does any area feel more tender than it should?"

"I... I don't know," Yamamoto answered tiredly. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "My... my glasses?"

"I didn't see them there with you. Did they get broken? Can you see okay without them?" asked Hayato, sounding like a mother hen. It made him sick the second the words left his mouth.

"I think they might have been knocked off my face at some point. I think when the scarred guy hit me. I can see okay, though. I have a spare pair at home."

"Che... those bastards. They must have taken your camera too. All you had with you was the bag. That's how I knew it was you, I saw the strap across your back."

"Awh man. That was a really expensive camera," Yamamoto said frowning.

"Tch!" Hayato felt his rage creeping up his sides again. Now that Yamamoto was lucid enough to talk, Hayato silently fumed at his stupidity. How could this guy care more about a stupid camera than his glasses or his own life even?!

"You idiot," he began harshly. "What the fuck were you thinking going down there? _Especially _after dark?"

"Hayato, I don't really think now is the time for an interrogation. The man's been stabbed and beat up, you should let him rest," Bianchi scolded, making her way into Hayato's kitchen.

"N-no, it's fine," Yamamoto said. "I uh..." He lifted a hand to his chin. "I got cut here?"

Hayato raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember?"

Yamamoto shook his head. "No... after I got stabbed, I got hit on the back of the head and passed out. Before that I just remember a lot of punching and kicking. Then the hard punch to my stomach and I was bleeding all of a sudden. Those guys were serious, haha."

"Here," Bianchi said, coming back into the living room with a glass of water. "Drink this."

"You really are a fucking idiot, Yamamoto. What an unbelievable guy."

Yamamoto took the glass from her with a unsteady hand and the more Hayato watched him, the more angrier he got. He couldn't decipher the direction of his anger however.

Yamamoto gulped down the water too quickly and choked and Bianchi scolded him too.

"Now you should know better to take it slow, reporter-san," she said almost mockingly.

"How did I...? Who is this?" he asked, still trying to catch his breath. Hayato noticed that he didn't feel much pain by the way his expressions changed. He either wasn't as badly hurt as he looked or his body was numb due to traumatic shock. Somewhere in the back of his angry storm of a brain, he prayed it was the former.

"This is our house, he found you and brought you here. You're a very lucky man," Bianchi said.

"He's a very idiotic man," Hayato snapped. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Yamamoto frowned. "Sorry... I was just doing my job, interviewing the people to get their take on the murders," he said sheepishly.

"And they nearly killed you for it, stupid!" Hayato's voice was rich with noticeable concern.

Bianchi looked from Hayato to Yamamoto inquisitively. "So how do you two know each other?"

"I told you already, I collaborated with him on an article for he wrote for the case I'm working on," Hayato remarked, eyeing Bianchi suspiciously. It wasn't like her to go so long without a licentious remark or anything similar.

She leaned forward on the back of the sofa and put her chin in her palm. Her port wine coloured hair fell in straight locks over her shoulders. "Are you fucking my brother?"

He should have known better.

"Wh-what?" Yamamoto choked.

"Bianchi what the fuck!" Hayato gaped. Bianchi knew nothing about his sex life, especially his preference in partners. But in a way he wasn't surprised, sex was something she was definitely skilled in and she was as perceptive as her brother but how she was able establish a connection was beyond him.

"Are you fucking my brother?" Bianchi repeated.

"She's your sister?" Yamamoto asked, looking from Hayato to Bianchi. "Ah, I see the resemblance... she's almost as beautiful as you are," Yamamoto commented in awe, his eyes locked on Bianchi's.

"Oi, you fucking idiot! Don't say such things in front of her!" Hayato snarled. His cheeks flushed and he glared at Yamamoto who grinned blindly.

"Well it's true, Gokudera is beautiful. Especially when your cheeks get that pretty colour," he said, grin getting wider.

Bianchi laughed. "Well I guess that answers that question."

As Hayato's cheeks flared red, he resisted the urge to stab Yamamoto himself and growled. "I'm not fuckin' beautiful, I'm a fuckin' man for fuck sakes!" _This guy is a fucking idiot. Fuckfuckfucking idiot._

Bianchi smirked triumphantly and Hayato shot up from his place on the floor and stormed off into the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey from underneath the sink and poured himself a glass and lit a cigarette. From there he could hear Bianchi giving Yamamoto the third degree.

"What's your name?"

"Aha, I'm Yamamoto Takeshi. What's yours?"

"Bianchi... Bianchi Filippi. So you're a reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi?"

"Ahaha, yeah. You have a different last name then Gokudera? Are you married?"

"I was. Hayato has his mother's name. Don't you know anything about him?"

"Hm... different parents. Makes sense, you don't look Japanese. But you speak it so well, haha!"

"Oi!" Hayato shouted a warning from the kitchen. He shot back the whiskey and poured himself another. Hayato heard Yamamoto laugh nervously. That idiot laughed at _everything _and he shouldn't be laughing at _anything_ considering he was just beat and nearly stabbed to death and he was now being interrogated by his mentally challenged sister.

Determined to stop this embarrassing Q&amp;A before too much of his life was revealed to a stranger, Hayato entered the living room once more to see Bianchi leaned over the couch like a predatory bird while Yamamoto lay in a somewhat slumped sitting position, as comfortable as he could get with the wound to his stomach. Yamamoto turned his head and smiled at Hayato and something in Hayato's stomach fluttered. Ignoring it, he took a long and satisfying drag of his cigarette.

"Bianchi, I need you to go to the store for some things," he said.

"Why me?" she asked, losing interest in Yamamoto. She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Because I'm not stupid enough to leave the two of you alone," Hayato replied making his way over to the coffee table and sitting on it.

"Jealous?" Bianchi asked with a wink.

"As if," Hayato said with a snort.

Yamamoto continued to laugh.

"It's just down the street, a few houses down there's a convenience store. Grab some aspirin and cigarettes. And... milk."

"Milk?" Bianchi asked raising a brow. "Since when do you drink milk?"

"Che, it isn't for me. The idiot likes milk." Hayato shut his mouth abruptly when he realized he remembered that. He felt his face get hot. "Ugh, can you just go already? You're wasting time asking stupid questions and it's annoying. It's getting late and you shouldn't be out past ten."

"Wah, you remembered!"

Hayato shot him a glare. He grinned.

"Hayato... what if you know... someone sees me?"

Hayato took another drag and let his lips curl in to a smirk. "You'll be safe in that outfit. They'll be looking for a slut, not -"

"Gokudera! That isn't a nice way to talk to your sister," Yamamoto said, appalled.

"I liked it better when you were unconscious," Hayato snarled, pointing to Yamamoto and Bianchi sighed.

"Alright, alright. I can see you want time alone with your boyfriend."

"Che! He's not my _boyfriend_," Hayato snapped.

Yamamoto laughed nervously again and then winced as he pulled on the stitches. He hissed momentarily and Hayato inched closer to inspect the gauze for any bleeding.

"Serves you right for laughing," Hayato said but instead of his tone coming out snide, it sounded concerned. He mentally kicked himself for probably the millionth time tonight for sounding the way he did.

"Sorry," Yamamoto muttered.

The two fell silent. Hayato handed Bianchi some money and she smirked at him with an all-knowing glint in her eyes. Hayato scowled and Bianchi left the house without another word. Now that the two were alone, Hayato leaned closer to Yamamoto and locked on to his hazel eyes. He fought to not falter when again he noticed how bright and clear his eyes were when he didn't have glasses on.

"I want you to tell me honestly, what were you doing down there, Yamamoto? You could have been killed, idiot."

"Is Gokudera worried about me?" he asked with a smile.

"Don't try to change the subject, you bastard. And stop smiling like what just happened wasn't a big deal. Who's brilliant idea was it?"

Yamamoto sighed. "Miura-san asked me to interview the people in Sakura Town -"

"Why didn't you just go in the morning, you idiot -"

"She told me I needed to go tonight because that's when I could talk to the gangs. She wanted the information for tomorrow's article."

Hayato felt his rage boil over and he nearly snapped the cigarette in between his teeth. "Che! That fucking stupid woman, she's gonna hear it from me, I-"

Despite the painful stretch it would have on his wound, Yamamoto leaned forward and grabbed Hayato's hand. His hand was warm and calloused. "I'm okay," he said with a smile.

Hayato didn't pull his hand away but he continued to glower at Yamamoto. "You're not okay. If I hadn't been there you'd probably be dead and I'd be investigating your fucking murder. You're not very smart, are you?"

Sitting up and wincing, Yamamoto tried to smile. He squeezed Hayato's hand. "No, I guess I'm not. Haha."

Hayato was suffering from an overwhelming tidal wave of emotion ranging from anger and panic to relief and something else and he really started to despise the way that this man made him feel. He made Hayato feel vulnerable and open with nameless emotions and nothing like himself. It wasn't a good feeling but it was at the same time. He was so confused and he hated not knowing things, it didn't jive well with his mathematical brain.

Yamamoto leaned in close and Hayato could smell his fresh, clean scent underneath the acidic copper smell of all the blood that covered him and Yamamoto. Hayato froze and his heart thudded hard against his chest. The cigarette's curl of smoke wrapped around their heads until Hayato crushed it out on the coffee table.

He couldn't tear his gaze away and something shifted in Yamamoto's eyes, that same shift he had seen in the bar when Yamamoto challenged him to a drinking contest. It was that same look of sharp focus and determination, it was a look that made heat spread throughout Hayato's stomach and his heart race.

"Gokudera..." he whispered. "Can I kiss you? "

It wasn't the first time, his previous partners he slept with always wanted to kiss and cuddle but Hayato associated kissing with lust and passion and those weren't things he felt when he took them back to motels. They were nothing but strokes to his ego, stress relievers, point blank satisfaction for his primal needs. Yamamoto asking to kiss him wasn't any different, though most of his partners had just tried forcing it without being polite, and Yamamoto seemed like a pretty polite kind of idiot. What had his heart racing and all other thoughts derailed was the smooth and subtle voice Yamamoto used to whisper his name, the set seriousness of his eyes and the lack of a smile on his face. He quite liked this look and it was strange how when Yamamoto shifted like this, Hayato felt like he was at his mercy and for someone that enjoyed dominating everything, having _all_ the control, it was unfamiliar but also intriguing.

Yamamoto was so close that Hayato could feel his the heat of his breath on his skin and a tingle shot up his spine. He was focused on Yamamoto's hazel eyes which he couldn't get enough of because they were a rare colour for his ethnicity and Hayato has always been a fan of the rare and recherché.

He couldn't find a voice to answer. Instead he just kept thinking, _D__on't do it_ _Hayato._ _Don't complicate things_. His mind was demanding that he reach out and shove this man out of his personal space. But when Yamamoto began to close the gap between their mouths, Hayato didn't move. Instead he felt his eyelids drop and then there were warm lips brushing hesitantly against his. They pressed a little harder and Yamamoto's tongue fanned across his lips. Hayato stiffened. There was fluttering in his stomach that felt like there were a million hummingbirds flapping their wings at all once at over eighty beats per second. His heart was pounding against his chest and his brain raced with conflicting thoughts that he couldn't catch up to. Then the warmth of Yamamoto's lips left his and the cool shock to them almost made him whimper. Coming back to reality, he opened his eyes he was faced with Yamamoto's alarmed expression.

"_Shit... _Gokudera... I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cross that line, I just uh-"

After blinking through his thought process for just a few more seconds (trying to rationalize the irrational) Hayato surged forward, grasping fistfuls of Yamamoto's thick hair and yanking his head down, crushing their lips together hungrily. Yamamoto froze, but Hayato parted his lips and ran the tip of his tongue along the crease of his mouth, forcing Yamamoto respond. Hayato's heart hammered against his chest and the fluttering he felt in his stomach exploded, flooding it with heat. Yamamoto's hands shot through his hair and fingernails scraped at his scalp sending pleasurably painful tingles down his neck and spine. He parted his lips more and Yamamoto's tongue snaked in, the rough side running along the palate of his mouth. Hayato's hands fell to Yamamoto's shoulders and he pushed him back into the sofa, following with his body while they were still lip locked and straddled his lap. Yamamoto gasped and Hayato delved in, taking back the dominance of their tongues.

Yamamoto tasted saccharine, like sweet shari rice and strawberry milk and while Hayato had an intense dislike for anything sweet, the inside of Yamamoto's mouth tasted amazing. He rolled his tongue over his and he had no experience with kissing at all so he relied on instinct and it was apparent that he was doing something right when Yamamoto groaned into his mouth.

Their kiss was full of teeth and tongue and finally Hayato pulled away for air with a thin strand of saliva snapping from their bottom lips. He huffed as Yamamoto leaned forward and fiercely attacked his neck, his teeth grazing along his jaw. Hayato shivered when Yamamoto nipped and licked trails of wet heat up his neck and around the shell of his ear. His hands returned to Yamamoto's hair again, clutching and pulling and Yamamoto pressed hard and desperate kisses under his jaw and up to his open mouth.

This kiss wasn't any less of a passionate burn than the first one and Hayato could feel Yamamoto's hardness underneath him, driving him to roll his hips slightly just to get a little friction. Yamamoto broke the kiss, panting.

"I... I want you, Gokudera," he said, his voice low and husky.

"I can't... your stictches," he gasped and smashed their mouths together in a lip bruising kiss.

Groaning, Yamamoto dropped one of his hands down to Hayato's crotch and pressed down on the bulge with the palm of his hand. "Let me make you feel good," he whispered, rubbing the fabric over Hayato's groin.

Hayato has never felt so much carnal lust in his sexual lifetime and the touch of Yamamoto's hand sent electrifying waves of pleasure through him. "Unh... sister," he moaned, pulling at Yamamoto's hair as he bit down on his collar bone.

This Yamamoto was different from the one in the motel and it caused an exciting thrill that resounded through each one of his limbs. He could feel the lust pooling in his belly as Yamamoto gripped on of his hips, rubbed his cock through his jeans and assaulted his Adam's apple with his mouth.

"Fuck," he moaned and he continued to grind down on Yamamoto's evident erection until his thigh must have hit Yamamoto the wrong way, causing him to stiffen and hiss from pain.

Hayato snapped back and scrambled off Yamamoto's lap and saw the white gauze covering his wound was seeping red and he cursed in Italian, running his hand through his hair frustratingly. "_Shit! _You ripped your stitches. Fuck!"

Yamamoto looked down at the bandage and back up at Hayato and smiled sheepishly. "It's okay, I'm okay."

Hayato growled. "You fucking _moron. _Do you get off on pain or something?"

Yamamoto laughed. "Haha, no. Kissing you... felt too good. It was like my own... anesthetic."

Feeling heat spread through his cheeks, Hayato clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and looked away. "Idiot."

He heard keys in the door and a creak when it opened. "I'm home, Hayato," Bianchi announced before closing the door behind her. She sounded a little too amused at the thought of walking in on something she could later use against him.

"I hear that," he muttered and composed himself, straightening out his hair and clothes. He shot a warning glance at Yamamoto who just grinned. Hayato hoped he wasn't too stupid to know his look meant for him to keep quiet.

"I got your milk," Bianchi said, walking into the living room. She handed the carton to Yamamoto, taking a look at Hayato's flushed face and smirking. "I hope I'm not interruppting anything."

"Thanks!" Yamamoto said with an ear to ear smile.

"Che... you're not. I was just about to go shower. I can trust you won't try to kill him while I'm gone?"

Bianchi tossed the cigarettes towards Hayato and rolled her eyes. "You always think the worst of me, brother. I'm really insulted."

Hayato caught the cigarettes with one hand and sighed. "Don't do anything stupid," he said to the both of them and walked up the hallway to his bedroom. He really didn't like leaving them alone for so many reasons and none of them had anything to do with being jealous of his perverted sister and her possible advances to a very stupid Yamamoto, who probably wouldn't know what to do with himself if she did. He was mainly afraid about them talking about him and thinking of all the embarrassing things they would say made his cheeks burn. However, the memory of Yamamoto's kiss was still seared onto his lips and the adrenaline from moments before was still coursing through his veins and he needed a cold shower to shock him back to reality. He couldn't even begin to touch on all the emotions surging through him at this moment and he needed some separation to give his racing mind time to think.

Bianchi's shit was scattered all over his bedroom and he growled. He was a neat freak, for the most part, and he hated to have his things in disarray. He picked up all her clothing and shoved them into her suitcase, cramming the lid shut. He could hear the mindless chatter between the two of them as he dragged her suitcase to the guest bedroom. Why she had decided to set up shop in his bedroom was beyond him. He made his way to the bathroom where he quickly showered, watching the water at the bottom of the tub turn pink as it was mixed with Yamamoto's blood that washed off him. He tried hard not to think even though he wanted to, but every thought he had jumbled into another that made no more sense than the one before it.

Hayato didn't want to take too long in the shower and leave Yamamoto at the mercy of his insane sister so he quickly stepped out after washing his hair and threw a towel around his waist. He didn't want to go out of the bathroom in just a towel either, but in his huff to clean Bianchi's crap out of his room he had forgotten to bring something to change into.

He had only been in the shower for about fifteen minutes but when he opened the door, he heard nothing but silence. Fearing the worst he made his way down the hall and took a look in the living room. Bianchi sat on the sofa leafing through a magazine but there was no Yamamoto.

"What did you do?" Hayato asked accusingly.

Bianchi didn't jump at his voice but she turned her head and smiled. "My, Hayato... you shouldn't walk around the house so scandalously. You'll give a girl-" she laughed as she corrected herself, "-or _guy_ a minor heart attack with that provocative body of yours."

"You're so god damned annoying. Where's the idiot?" he snapped.

"Relax, I didn't do anything to your boyfriend-"

"He's not my _boyfriend._"

"He's in your room, probably sleeping. I gave him a mild sedative. I saw the bloody bandage. Wouldn't want you to cause him to burst a few more," Bianchi said with a smirk.

"You asshole," Hayato growled. "I don't trust you."

"That hurt, Hayato. Maybe it's you I shouldn't trust. You're the one hiding this whole double life of yours from your loving sister. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not hiding anything, it's just none of your business," he remarked curtly.

Bianchi set the magazine on the coffee table. "Is he good to you?"

"What?"

"Yamamoto Takeshi... is he good to you? Does he treat you well?"

"Bianchi, I've already told you. I just fucking met the guy. We're not together, fuck."

"The way you look at each other says differently," Bianchi said and this time there was no mocking or amusing tone.

Hayato felt his face get warm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The way you look at one another... it's the same way Romeo and I used to look at each other," she said sadly. "True love, Hayato. That's what I see when I look at the two of you."

Hayato scoffed. "You've must have inhaled too many toxic fumes from your poisons. Love, what a joke. I don't even know what the fuck that is."

"Heh... street life in Palermo really did a number on you, didn't it? What happened to you down there?"

"It wasn't Palermo, it was everything. You, that bastard and his _wife_, Shamal, the mafia... fuck."

"I'm sorry that you think I hated you so much, Hayato. I really don't. You're my gorgeous little brother and believe it or not, I really do love you."

"Yeah well, you're just as fucked up as I am, if not more so... your opinion doesn't really count," Hayato shot back.

"Think whatever you like, Hayato. Father and mother love you too, and even that perverted bastard."

Hayato scoffed again. "Yeah, right. They had my mother killed. And your mother used to treat me like shit and I never understood why until I found out I wasn't her kid. Father didn't care if I lived or died after my mother was murdered and Shamal was fucked in more ways than one so he doesn't count either. Look, I'm not really in the mood to talk about this. I've had a long fucking day."

"That's fine. I just wanted to let you know that you should open your heart a little. It feels good to be loved. You deserve it too, Hayato."

Hayato sighed. "And end up like one of your husbands? No thank you. I'm going to bed."

Bianchi smiled. "With him?"

"Well you're the stupid pervert that told him to lie down in my bed, so yeah, with _him._" Hayato turned and padded up the hallway.

"True love, brother! True love!" she called after him.

"Fuck off, you crazy woman!" Hayato shouted back but there wasn't any venom in his tone. Maybe because he knew that though she was crazy, she did love him and he in his own way, loved her too.

When he entered his bedroom he saw Yamamoto stretched out on his bed, clad only in his boxers. He looked peaceful and innocent, exactly the way he did this morning and he thought about just how long of a day this had been. Too many events had happened, too many things to work through and with that epiphany he became very exhausted. His body ached and his eyelids felt heavy. The idea of Yamamoto's warmth and the comfort of his bed seemed so inviting right now.

He pulled out a pair of his own boxers from his dresser drawer and wriggled into them, hanging the towel on the hook drilled into the back of his door. He felt a tug at the corner of his mouth and he smiled as he crawled into his bed, pulling the blankets over them. He was right, the heat emanating off the man next to him _was_ inviting and comforting. He didn't dare get too close, he wasn't ready for that yet but as turned on to his side and felt his lids droop, Yamamoto's strong arm fell over his waist and pulled him close. He shifted until he melded his body to fit perfectly alongside Hayato's.

Hayato let out a stutter in protest but was silenced when Yamamoto rested his chin on his shoulder and began snoring softly in his ear. Hayato strained his neck to look over his shoulder and Yamamoto's eyes were closed and a relaxed smile graced his face. Hayato felt that familiar twitch in his cock as its interest was peaked by the hot, sinewy body that pressed into his and the flutter returned to the pit of his stomach. The situation wasn't familiar yet this was the second time he found himself relishing in the strong arms that wrapped around him tightly and the soft, warm breath on his neck.

Relaxed and at ease, Hayato closed his eyes and allowed sleep to reach out and pull him in.


	11. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XI

_**Chapter XI**_

* * *

Hayato awoke to the loud buzzing of his cell phone vibrating on the surface of his bedside table. He thought it was weird because he didn't remember bringing his phone into his bedroom last night. The idea of Bianchi slipping into his room while he slept was unnerving. He shuddered.

There was soft snoring in his ear and a fuzzy feeling in his chest. The warmth from the sunlight that streamed through his bedroom made him feel cozy and relaxed but the warmth at his back made him tingle all over. He didn't want to move even an inch from the surrounding comfortable heat but knowing that it was probably work calling made him jut an arm out from beneath the covers and grab the phone. He answered without looking at the ID.

"Yeah," he answered groggily.

Yamamoto stirred behind him, but Hayato didn't move.

"_Yo Octopus Head! I've got an extreme lead! Are you up yet?!_"

Hayato groaned. "Ugh, shut up Lawn Head. You're too noisy in the mornings."

"_Another extreme hangover_?"

"No. What lead?"

"_My informant called me. He's got more information on the dude with the katana. Says he saw him last night!_"

"When can we speak to him?"

"_Dude's all messed up to the extreme, so I'm thinkin' for his shit to be worth any credibility, we should probably wait it out a bit._"

Yamamoto's arm squeezed him tighter but this time, Hayato wasn't swatting anything away. Instead, morning wood twitched in response.

"Why don't you bring him into the station to sober up, then we'll talk to him. See what kind of fuckery he has to tell us then," he said with a scoff. "Call me when you get him." Hayato hung up abruptly before Ryohei could say anything else. He wasn't ready to get out of bed just yet.

Yamamoto kissed his shoulder lightly. "Work?" he asked in a smooth voice, too smooth for Hayato to hear first thing in the morning. He was already aching with anticipation.

He turned on to his back and Yamamoto propped himself up on one arm, leaning in to kiss across Hayato's collar bone and sternum.

"Mm... Yes, work. Don't you have work too?" Hayato asked, sliding his fingers through Yamamoto's hair. The feel of the dark locks were rich and soft.

Yamamoto grinned against skin, though he couldn't see it and Hayato wondered if he should be freaked out that he could already read nuances in Yamamoto's body language.

"I'm taking a personal day," he said, kissing his way up Hayato's throat and chuckling.

"Pfft, I'd comment on your slacking off but that wench deserves it. See how well she fares without a story from her _star_ journalist," Hayato remarked sourly.

"Gokudera's too cute when he's mad," Yamamoto purred in his ear with a nibble.

Hayato felt an embarrassing tickle when Yamamoto's breath hit his skin and his face started to get hot. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the way he felt in this moment.

"Che... just shut up and kiss me already."

Yamamoto chuckled and planted his warm lips firmly on Hayato's. Every time he feels that connection, the synapses in his brain explode with sensory overload. The kiss is just as electric as the ones prior and Hayato has to stop and wonder why he's never wanted to do this before with anyone else. But then he has to think that it has nothing really to do with kissing in itself, but everything to do with the way he felt about Yamamoto Takeshi. Even if he didn't know exactly what that feeling was.

The truth was from the moment he saw Yamamoto Takeshi, somewhere in the back of his mind he had imagined what his lips would feel like and how the inside of his mouth would taste like.

Yamamoto's hand traced over Hayato's chest and stomach, teasing the sharp lines and planes in his torso with his fingertips. Hayato felt a shiver run through him when he began rubbing his crotch through the silk fabric of his boxers. Yamamoto broke their heated kiss of tongues clashing and teeth nipping to work his way down Hayato's chest, landing on one of his hardened nipples. The heat from his mouth and the sharp sting of his teeth kneading sent a ripple of pleasure up his spine, causing him to arch his back into the sensation.

Hayato has never allowed another man to touch him in the way Yamamoto is now. He calls all the shots, he's domineering in every way and when they try persistently, he ends up leaving. Yamamoto is different, he has been from the very beginning despite Hayato's desperate attempts to reject it.

A mewl escaped his lips as Yamamoto flicked the sensitive bud with his tongue and proceeded to kiss down his torso to the silvery trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers. He bit his lip to prevent another embarrassing sound from leaving them and cursed himself for becoming so weak when it came to this man's touch. He wanted to take the control back but there was something about the way Yamamoto could dominate him without even being aggressive turned him on so much that all he could do was let it happen.

Yamamoto tugged off Hayato's boxers, looking up at him with that same sharp focus in his hazel eyes from before and licked his lips. It drove Hayato crazy. Keeping his eyes focused on Hayato's, Yamamoto licked a hard stripe up his shaft and swirled his tongue around the head, dipping his tongue into the slit and lapping up the pearly beads of pre-cum.

"I-I don't reciprocate s-so_.._"

Yamamoto looked up and grinned but it wasn't his usual grin, it was something else. Mischievous, perhaps.

"Ma, no worries. I'm gonna make Gokudera feel good," he said, his voice low and sulty. The sound of it made Hayato shiver.

Hayato knew he should be saying something here, like _wait _or _stop_ or _hey_ _I'm_ _not wearing a condom _but their eyes were deadlocked and every rational thought he had melted away when Yamamoto's took him into his mouth without taking his hazel eyes off him. Hayato let out a long groan and fisted Yamamoto's hair. His mouth was hot and wet and cock fit perfectly. Don't misunderstand, it not like he's small; he is definitely above average but Yamamoto is talented and his lips and tongue found their way to the base of his cock with ease, with the tip of his head hitting the back of Yamamoto's throat. He sucked, pulling at his sensitive flesh with his mouth and grazing it gently with just enough teeth.

"Oh shit... ah fuck!" Hayato moaned breathlessly.

Eyes shuttered, Hayato tugged on his hair and bucked his hips on instinct. He heard Yamamoto gag and choke a little, but he didn't stop so Hayato continued to fuck his inviting mouth. He threw his head back and moaned and with this good of a feeling, he could feel his impending crash. Coming so soon was embarrassing and _rare,_ he didn't want to come yet. He gave a warning tug on Yamamoto's hair, yanking his head back. Yamamoto stopped and Hayato looked down at him, panting and Yamamoto grinned while licking his lips.

"Come here, you fucking sexy bastard," he growled.

The grin that spread across Yamamoto's face was a feral one and it made Hayato shiver with excitement. Yamamoto divested himself of his own boxers and straddled him. He leaned forward and smashed their lips together in a hungry, lustful kiss that would leave them breathless.

Yamamoto kissed down his jaw and neck in a frenzy while Hayato wrapped his hand around both their cocks and stroked hard. Yamamoto thrust into each stroke while he bit and sucked at the flesh on his neck.

Hayato turned his head and caught Yamamoto's lip with his teeth, dragging him down into another fiery kiss. Switching hands, Hayato slid two fingers into Yamamoto's mouth as they kissed and the way he sucked on his fingers reminded Hayato of the way he had sucked on his cock and he shuddered with delectation. He pulled them from Yamamoto's mouth with a _pop_ and slid his fingers down the crease between his cheeks and pushed both fingers in tentatively. Yamamoto moaned, low and husky against his lips and Hayato closed his mouth over them once more.

Yamamoto was hot and tight inside and Hayato pushed his fingers in further, scissoring and stroking in attempts to stretch him. He took his other hand of their cocks and grabbed on to Yamamoto's hair, tugging his head back so the he could drag his tongue along the sweat salty skin.

"F-fuck... fuck me, 'Dera," Yamamoto whined, digging his fingernails into Hayato's scalp and backing into his fingers for emphasis.

"You're... you're not ready yet," Hayato whispered, nipping on his ear.

"I can take it," Yamamoto panted. "I want you."

Hayato read the certainty in his eyes, the same determination still there and Hayato withdrew his fingers, making Yamamoto whimper. Without tearing his gaze away, Hayato brought his hand up and spit into it, bringing it back down to coat Yamamoto's entrance with his saliva. Closing the distance between their mouths, Hayato inserted two fingers at first and Yamamoto broke away, whispering pleas in Hayato's ear. When he inserted his third finger, Yamamoto bit down in his collar bone with a cry and Hayato paused.

"Don't stop... Gokudera I _need _you."

Hayato continued fingering Yamamoto and the sensation of their cocks rubbing together and Yamamoto's hazel eyes locked on to his, Hayato felt so close to coming.

"C-condom," he breathed, attempting to shift on the bed.

"No," Yamamoto whispered lustfully. "Just fuck me, I want to feel _you._"

Hayato uttered a predatory growl and dug his fingers deeper, making Yamamoto whimper. "Idiot."

When he couldn't take the overwhelming heat and pressure in his groin any longer, Hayato withdrew his fingers and gripped Yamamoto's hips, lifting his pelvis and lining him up on his cock.

"Hey... kiss me," he said and when Yamamoto did, Hayato eased him down on the tip of his cock, hissing from the somewhat painful tightness. Yamamoto groaned in his mouth and Hayato tried his best to distract him from the pain by drawing out his tongue and sucking it. Impatiently, Yamamoto pushed down hard and bit Hayato's lip, letting out a small whimper. He waited a minute to give Yamamoto time to adjust, kissing him and stroking his cock slowly. When Yamamoto was ready, he grabbed hold of Hayato's shoulder and squeezed, rolling his hips.

Hayato took that as an invitation and began thrusting up into Yamamoto slowly, their lips still messily locked. Yamamoto braced himself off Hayato's chest and moved up and down on his cock, timing his seating with every thrust of Hayato's. He threw his head back and moaned and Hayato drank in the brawny, tanned body that rode him; watched as the curves of muscles in his arms and abdomen move as he flexed with every thrust. He mapped the lines and knots of muscle in Yamamoto's thighs with every push off his cock. He was so warm and tight, the heat that surrounded his bare cock was a feeling that he's never experienced and it felt so fucking _good_. Hayato's imagines its not just the feeling of searing friction or the tight ringed muscle clenching his cock but rather it's who he's fucking that makes it feel so amazing. These past few days were turning out be eventful days of many firsts for Hayato, breaking so many of his rules all for this one person he could slowly feel himself becoming addicted to.

"Fuck... Yamamoto. So good."

"M-more, Gokudera."

Hayato has always been with his one night stands from behind because it was the most impersonal position and he didn't have to look at their faces. Yet here this man was in all his sun kissed, sinewy glory riding him while moaning to the ceiling. He's never kissed anyone, never slept with anyone more than once, he's never looked into the eyes of the person he was fucking and doing all these things with Yamamoto felt good. Felt really, _really _good.

He felt the build up, the pressure in his cock and the heat coiling in his belly. He slid his hands up Yamamoto's back and brought him down to his chest. He clutched the tuft of hair at the nape of Yamamoto's neck with one hand while the other pushed his pelvis down on to his cock. He thrust upwards, hilting and hitting the bundle of nerves that made Yamamoto scream as his own orgasm ripped through him.

"F-fuck... Yamamoto,' he panted, arching his back and digging his blunt fingernails into Yamamoto's skin.

"_Ah-aah_, 'Dera!" Yamamoto shouted as he clenched hard around Hayato's leaking cock, his warm come spraying his stomach and chest. He shuddered and collapsed on Hayato, boneless.

Hayato struggled to catch his breath and he dragged a hand through Yamamoto's sweaty hair. After a few minutes of heavy breathing, Yamamoto finally eased off, wincing and rolled over beside Hayato.

"I think I might have popped a few more stitches," he said with a laugh, pulling the bed sheets over them.

Hayato turned his head and scoffed. "Idiot, serves you right for getting too excited."

Yamamoto grinned. "Mm, maybe... but I don't hear Gokudera complaining."

Hayato's cheeks flared. "Che, shut up you bastard."

Yamamoto laughed, leaned in and kissed Hayato's nose. Instinctively Hayato jerked back and Yamamoto frowned. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Hayato sighed. Every time he's kissed Yamamoto, it's been in the heat of the moment. Hayato can convince himself that he kisses him out of lust, because it turns him on more and because it makes the sex better. But when they're not about to have sex or having sex, he can't find a way to justify such romantic gestures. It makes him uncomfortable and angry.

He had already broke his cardinal rules of not sleeping with someone he knew and more than once. He had to put a stop to it before any more feelings got involved and feeling got hurt. Because Yamamoto was the lead journalist for this case it would make for an awkward and messy work relationship. Even if he wasn't sure. if that was what he really wanted.

"You know," he began, already feeling a little regret. This probably wasn't going to end well. "I'm not one to repeat yesterday's mistakes."

Yamamoto cocked his head to the side, his hazel eyes readied with confusion. "Is... is that what you think of this? A mistake?"

Seeing Yamamoto's distraught expression struck a painful chord in his heart. Hayato sighed frustratingly. "I... I don't know anymore, fuck. I -"

"Gokudera... I really, really like you but... but if this is too much, I understand."  
Yamamoto moved out from underneath the blankets and Hayato felt a cold shock to his heated flesh. "And if it means anything to you, I don't think that this was a mistake, even if it doesn't go any further than this," he said, turning and smiling wide.

Hayato watched as Yamamoto gathered his pants and boxers and started getting dressed. He felt guilty, yes and he definitely didn't want to stop whatever it was between them; the sex was too amazing and Hayato had already gone way beyond the point he should have, going so far as to let this man kiss him and he actually enjoying it. Unfortunately, he just couldn't bring himself to say the words he wanted to say and when he thought hard about it, he really didn't know what it was that he did want to say. So he watched speechlessly as Yamamoto took one last longing look at him, sharp pangs in his heart making it hurt. He wanted to scream because he was angry and annoyed and confused.

"Yamamoto... wait." Fuck, he was going to kick himself for this later. Probably after he drank about six bottles of whiskey and smoked about ten packs of cigarettes.

Yamamoto turned, his hand resting on the door knob. "Yeah, Gokudera?"

"Come back to bed. I'm not finished with you yet."

* * *

Some hours later, long after all of Hayato's stamina had been sapped, he left his bedroom to shower despite wanting to curl in that brawny body and sleep. Yamamoto, finally satiated, was sleeping soundly sprawled out in the middle of his bed, lucky bastard. He had originally opted for them to shower together but Hayato knew if that happened, he'd never be able to leave the house.

He passed the living room where Bianchi sat flipping through a magazine, drinking something from a mug. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and Hayato could see he was wearing _his _clothes. Which made him think she'd really been in his room. The thought made him shudder again.

"Busy morning?" she remarked amusingly without looking up.

"Fuck off, Bianchi."

"I'm really disappointed Hayato. The least you could have done was let me watch."

"Go to hell, psycho."

* * *

By the time Hayato had left the house he still hadn't heard from Ryohei. He had tried calling but he never answered. It was around three in the afternoon when he got to the precinct and he didn't see Ryohei's car in the parking lot.

Hayato's stomach growled as he exited his car and he cursed for not grabbing a bento or something to snack on before he got here. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. Yamamoto had offered to make him breakfast at some point and Hayato commented that was something lovers did and for now, they were nothing but two guys fucking because the sex was too good to pass up. Yamamoto had compared it to a friends with benefits relationship to which Hayato reminded him they weren't friends.

He used his aviator sunglasses to push the hair out of his face when he walked into the station, nodding at Tetsuga Yato, the cop at the admissions desk. He was one of the older officers here and one of the few people that actually liked Hayato and vice versa.

"Yo, Tetsu. What's been going on? Busy day?" Hayato asked, handing in his badge.

"Nah, not really. Been kinda slow lately. Just that Headless Samurai keepin' us busy." He took Hayato's badge and typed the information on the keyboard, glancing sideways at Hayato. "Did you see the news this morning?"

Hayato raised an inquisitive brow. "No?"

"News revealed a composite sketch of a suspect. Said the Gazette was given this sketch by a trusted source but it looks like a police sketch, ya know?"

"What the _f__uck_?" Hayato could feel rage bubbling in his blood. "There... there hasn't been any witnesses or suspects. How did they get their hands on a _sketch_?"

Tetsuga shrugged. "Boss is real pissed. That fuckin' bureau agent too, he came prancin' in here like a fuckin' fairy all high and mighty. He's worse than that Hibari jackoff."

Hayato crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. "I leave for a few hours and come back to a shit load of shit. I don't know what's going on but I need to see the Tenth. Is he in?"

Tetsuga handed Hayato his badge. "Weapons check," he said and Hayato handed him his gun. "Yeah, boss should be upstairs with that pineapple fairy."

Hayato couldn't help but laugh at the similar nickname for Rokudo Mukuro. He watched as Tetsuga checked his ammunition and inspected it for recent discharge. He handed Hayato back his gun.

"I admire your piece every time I see it, Gokudera. You're lucky boss let you have this as a registered weapon. It's fuckin' beautiful."

"Heh, thanks."

"They use guns like these back in Italy?" Tetsuga asked.

Hayato holstered his AutoMag. "No, usually standard issue is the Beretta. Kinda like the .40 Smith &amp; Wesson and the glock .22 for the Americans."

"Yer gun is American too, right?"

Hayato nodded. While he was enjoying this conversation about guns with someone he didn't hate, he really needed to address Tsuna about the events taken place in his absence.

"Yeah. Hey look, Tetsu... I've gotta go talk to the Tenth. I'll buy you a coffee sometime and we'll talk guns alright?"

"Oh sure, yeah whatever. See ya later, Gokudera."

Hayato saluted him informally and ran up the stairs to the second floor. He searched Tsuna's office to find it empty when he heard the high pitched shrill that made his skin stand on end. The voice of Miura Haru. Hayato stormed down the hall to the briefing room and burst through the door, unable to control his rage, instantly flying off the handle. He felt unexplainably protective of Yamamoto and his existing hatred for her made the urge to rip her throat out almost irresistible.

"Hahi!"

"Gokudera-kun!"

"Oya, it's the bakufu dog, kufufu."

"You! You stupid fucking woman!" Hayato yelled over the voices, ignoring Mukuro's comment and Tsuna's surprised face.

He moved towards where Haru sat at the conference table and pointed a long slender finger in her face. Her eyes were wide and she tried to lean back into the chair to avoid his wrath but couldn't sink back any further.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened?!" he shouted.

"Hahi! Gokudera-san! I don't understand- "  
"Gokudera-kun, what's wrong?" Tsuna asked, stepping in between Haru and him.

He straightened out and faced his boss. "This... this stupid _woman,_ she-"

"Oya, is this about the sketch your department leaked to the papers, Gokudera Hayato?" Mukuro asked slyly, head resting on a curled fist.

"Gokudera-kun, Yamamoto Takeshi is missing, that's why Haru is here," Tsuna said, standing from his chair and leaning over the table.

"He's not missing," Gokudera spat. "Though he could have ended up dead because of this bitch!"

Tsuna looked confused and Haru looked guiltily from the two men while Mukuro sat in a leather chair, legs crossed and hands pushed together at their fingertips, chuckling.

"You know, don't you... what could have happened to him?" Hayato asked, his voice coming out more shaky and revealing than it should have.

"What's going on?" Tsuna demanded.

"Why don't you tell him?" Hayato snarled.

"Ha... Haru asked Yamamoto-san to interview the _Hakai Dīrā _in Sakura Town last night."

"You... you did _what_?" asked Tsuna in raw disbelief.

"Ha-Haru's sorry, we needed the article for this morning's i-issue."

"Haru, what were you thinking? That's really dangerous!" Tsuna said, eyes wide.

"Kufufu, this city never ceases to amaze me, hm Tsunayoshi?"

"Shut up, pineapple snake," Gokudera spat.  
"I'd watch my manners if I were you, Gokudera Hayato," Mukuro said, smirking.

"Have you seen Yamamoto, Gokudera-kun?"

"Yes, Tenth. He's doing fine. Minor cuts and bruises... and a shallow S.W. to the abdomen," Hayato said, glaring at Haru.

Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth to stifle her gasp. "Hahi! Haru never meant-"

"Oh of course you did, you selfish woman! What did you-"

"How do you know this information, Gokudera-kun? Where is Yamamoto now?" Tsuna asked, sitting down again, possibly hoping that this might turn into a normal conversation.

Hayato couldn't very much tell Tsuna that he had been in Sakura Town late last night alone too and he _definitely _couldn't tell his boss that Yamamoto Takeshi was at his house, sated and tangled in his bed sheets. He might have, had the other two swine not been in the room.

"I... I have my sources," Hayato lied, guilt making his heart feel heavy. This was the one person he didn't want to have to lie to. "And at home, presumably."

"Oya... are you sure about that, Gokudera-_kun_?"

Hayato shot a glare towards Mukuro, hot enough to melt metal. _What the f__uck is talking about?_

"You must excuse Haru, Tsuna-san. Haru should call Yamamoto-san and make sure he's okay."

"Like you care, inconsiderate wench."

"Gokudera-san!"

"Gokudera-kun! Mukuro, what are you talking about?!" Tsuna asked frustratingly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Kufufu, I have eyes all over the city. Why don't you ask your bakufu dog what he was doing in Sakura Town last night?"

Hayato froze. Anxiety rose from the pit of his stomach and ran through his blood, turning it cold. What the fuck was this pineapple bastard talking about?

"Huh? Is this true, Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna asked, raising from his seat once more.

"Y-yes, Tenth... I... I went to speak to the _Hakai _myself to see if I could arrange a meeting with their boss."

"_Alone_?"

Haru snuck out of the room while Tsuna's eyes were wide and full of concern and Mukuro chuckled at the issues he had instigated.

"Yes... I went alone. I'm alright, I put the word out there and found Yamamoto in the process. If I hadn't been there, he most likely would have died." Hayato fidgeted nervously but behind that was his boiling anger. How dare this pineapple fucker invade his privacy. He was being followed and he didn't even know it. Further thought led to perhaps though he wasn't being followed. If his theory was right, Mukuro had connections in Sakura Town. Since the people down there never open their mouths without a price, Hayato believed Mukuro had to be doing them a special kind of service that only bureau agent could provide.

Tsuna sighed exasperately. "As could have you, Gokudera-kun! When are you going to stop being so reckless? You know, you aren't just an officer that works for me, you're also my friend! Don't you ever stop to think how I'd feel if something were to happen to you?"

"T-Tenth, I'm sorry. I-"

"Kufufu, quite the lovers quarrel." Mukuro rose from his seat and walked around the table, and sat on the surface once he found a good view.

"Shut up, Mukuro!" they both yelled at the sly agent in unison.

"Oya, no need to get upset," he said, admiring the rings he had over a black gloved hand. A eerie grin spread across his face. "Although Tsunayoshi, you should know you're star detective has been sleeping with the reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi."

A loud, gutteral growl erupted from Hayato's throat as he lunged forward across the conference table, tackling Mukuro on to the ground. Mukuro's arms shot up and grabbed Hayato's wrists. He laughed while Hayato sputtered and wriggled, finally getting his right hand free.

"Gokudera!" Tsuna shouted in surprise.

"You fucking bastard, stupid pineapple _fuck!_" Hayato's fist connected with Mukuro's jaw and as he was about to lay the second, Tsuna wrapped his arms around Hayato's chest and dragged him off Mukuro. He thrashed and shouted obscenities and he couldn't think straight. Right now all he was seeing was red, right now he was wanting to kill this bastard.

"Kahahaha! Sawada Tsunayoshi, what an amusing department you have!" Mukuro laughed, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. His blue hair had been flattened in the struggle and his right eye glared red.

"What is going on?!" Tsuna demanded, the strain in his voice making Hayato stiffen.

Hayato felt Tsuna's arms leave him and he panted heavily, the anger and rage threatening to explode through his ribs. "You bastard... You're working with the _Hakai,_ aren't you?"

Mukuro stood, straightening out his long black trench coat and running a hand through his monochromatic hair. "Kufufu, don't be ridiculous -"

"You two... I asked what the hell is going on!" Tsuna shouted and Hayato froze. He rarely ever heard Tsuna use that tone of voice and he had never directed it towards him. "Gokudera, is this true? A-are you... in a relationship with Yamamoto Takeshi?"

"T-Tenth... N-no, I'm not in a relationship with the reporter. I-"

"Oyaoya, lying to your boss... guess you're not the loyal bakufu dog everyone -"

"Mukuro, enough! I don't know how you came about your information but if Gokudera is telling the truth about this, I believe him! I trust-"

"Tenth..." Gokudera sighed. "I... I have been with him in _that_ way." He felt his face get hot and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and just die, right here. He could feel the hot burn of Mukuro's heterochromatic eyes boring holes into his back and the scrutinizing gaze of his boss. "B-but there isn't anything going on, it was just a mistake-"

Tsuna cleared his throat. "Then I have no choice... Gokudera, you need to recuse yourself from this case."

Hayato looked up at his boss, eyes blown wide. "Wh-what? But, Tenth!"

"This is unacceptable, Gokudera. Your behaviour has been outrageous since the beginning of this case and it's gotten far worse! You don't think I know about you abusing the crime scenes with your lack of respect or showing up at work reeking of alcohol? And now, going into Sakura Town and challenging the _Hakai _boss... having intimate relations with the lead reporter on this case! Gokudera, what were you thinking?!"

Mukuro chuckled and sat back down in one of the leather chairs, crossing his legs.  
Tsuna glared at him. "And you! You've made a mockery of my department and their officers, Rokudo Mukuro. I understand -"

"Oya, Sawada Tsunayoshi... don't misunderstand. _I_ haven't done anything. Your officers have done a fine job of that mockery themselves. And as per my seniority in this case, I demand that Gokudera Hayato be removed from all aspects of this case before we have more than just a conflict of interest on our hands."

"You... you can't do that, Tenth! I'm so _close_ to figuring this out!" Hayato trembled with anger and disappointment.

"Actually,_ I _can," Mukuro remarked with a sly curl of his lips. "I'm only trying to be respectful and not step on any toes. You really don't have a choice in the matter."

Hayato looked from Mukuro to Tsuna, who sadly shook his head.

"He's right, Gokudera-kun. And after the leak of false information to the press-"

Hayato ran a frantic hand through his hair. "Tsuna, honestly! That wasn't me!" He rarely ever used Tsuna's real name. He had hoped it would help Tsuna understand how serious he was.

"Kufufu, as if we'd believe anything you'd have to say now, Gokudera Hayato." Mukuro rested his chin in the palm of his hand, looking like he was enjoying this way too much.

"As much as I'd like to disagree, Mukuro is right. I can't trust you right now, Gokudera-kun. You've become a liability and your relationship to Yamamoto Takeshi - regardless if it's ongoing - has become a conflict of interest. Anything you learn about the case can be possibly leaked to the public and I can't take that chance. I'm sorry, Gokudera-kun, but you brought this on yourself."

"Oya, I want Hibari Kyoya. I've heard great things about him. He seems... quite fascinating. You should have him take over," Mukuro mused wistfully.

"Listen here, you cock sucker. This is _my _case, _my _hard work-"

"Which is exactly why you're not able to continue. We don't need you telling your reporter boyfriend all the details-"

"He's not my fucking _boyfriend!_ Say anything like that again and I swear I will fucking put a bullet in your pineapple fairy skull!"

"Oya, _I'm _the fairy? You've got some nerve. Shall I take your badge too, for uttering death threats against your superior?"

"Enough! This is enough! Hibari is the head if the crime lab, not a detective. He can't -"

"It's fine," Mukuro said waving a hand. "Sasagawa Ryohei can take over with the assistance from Hibari Kyoya. Hand over your case files to them. You're excused, Gokudera Hayato. Anything we have to say about the case from here on out is none of your concern." He shooed Hayato with his ring adorned hand.

Hayato scowled. "This... This is all your fault! You're framing me, you fucker! I know you want me off this case."

"No, Gokudera-kun... This is _your _fault. No one else can be responsible for your actions but you."

"He's right, Gokudera-_kun. _Who knows what you've been saying to that reporter? And then going off on your own investigation... You aren't following protocol at all. It's best you leave this case to the professionals, the grown ups. Isn't that right, Sawada Tsunayoshi? Kufufu!" He grinned and winked at Tsuna.

Hayato couldn't take the greasiness of this sly bastard anymore. The malicious intent was exuding off him and the Tenth was too naïve to see what his true intentions were. He clenched his fists and snapped.

"Ah, this is fucking bullshit! He's only fucking doing this because he wants to get into your pants, Tenth!"

Instantly, Hayato clapped a hand over his mouth. He witnessed Tsuna's face stain with a dark vermilion and his eyes went wide.

"Hm, this just got interesting, kufufu."

Hayato became a stuttering and sputtering mess. "O-oh shit. Tenth, I am... I am so, so sorry! I-I didn't mean to say that, it's just that - I see the way he looks - and fuck, I've made a mistake! Fuck, I've made many mistakes but it's nothing more than just that! It won't happen again, I won't ever say anything like that again! You're personal life is none of my business, you can-"

"Go home, Gokudera. If there's something we need from you, we'll call you." Tsuna said coldly. His eyes were downcast and his mouth was wrought into a tight frown.

A whirlwind of emotions stormed his heart and the only ones he could decipher best was anger and hurt. He felt so stupid for what he had said, felt stupid for what he had done... He was a fuck up, he always has been. Nothing he does is right. He's selfish and insecure and he doesn't care who he hurts.

_Go away, Luciano. You're father is busy. He doesn't have time for a bastard like you._

_Luciano, you're nothing but a pest! A disappointment to the mafia, to your father!_

_Luciano, I can't stand look at your face. You remind me of all the failures in my life._

_Hah! Hurricane Hayato, what a joke! You're a nothing, kid! A no good half breed!_

_A wop with a Jap name, what a freak! Just who're tryin' ta'be? You'll never be accepted here, you're a disgrace to the mafia! _

Everyone in his life - his step mother, his father, the mafia families he tried to join and work for - was always telling him he wasn't good enough. To just leave and never come back. He's heard it from everyone and now from the one person he'd never thought would say it.

"I... I'm sorry, Tenth... I won't be a disgrace to you or the department anymore," Hayato muttered, defeated. He left the room without another word and another look back.

On the way to his car he received a phone call from Ryohei who hadn't heard the news yet. Any of it.

"_I think my guy is ready to talk to the extreme. Wants us to meet him at his apartment on the outskirts of Sakura Town. You comin'?_"

Hayato felt conflicted and he really didn't want to embarrass Tsuna anymore than he had. But right now, he couldn't pass up on another lead. He couldn't let _another _bastard get away with murder. This was his city too, and maybe he colds end it's misery himself but he could damned well try. He didn't operate like the yakuza, or the corrupt politicians and law enforcement. He did things by the law, despite his want to take maters into his own hands. Hayato_ needed _this, to put back the order in this chaotic city; to put back the order in his chaotic life. He _was _going to catch this bastard, even if it meant going against his boss.

"Yeah. I'll be there in ten minutes." He didn't care if people were watching him. They'd have to catch up to him first, right? And he'd be damned if he was going to let some fucking bitch prevent him from doing his job.

Fuck Rokudo Mukuro and that pineapple he rode in on.

* * *

**Author's Note : **

How's everyone enjoying the story so fsr? R&amp;R my lovlies! xox


	12. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XII

_**Chapter XII**_

* * *

"This is fucked up, Lawn Head. I thought you just talked to him?"

Ryohei sighed. "Yeah... That was like an extreme half hour ago. At least."

Hayato sighed. "Enough time to do it though."

"You think he did it on purpose?"

"Che, of course not. He was just looking to get high. Fuckin' junkie."

"What a waste to the extreme," Ryohei said dejectedly.

"Yeah... _looks_ like an overdose." Hayato took a pen light out of his jeans pocket and carefully stepped over the body of Ryohei's now dead informant. "You have any gloves?"

Ryohei pulled a pair of latex gloves out of a small pouch on his utility belt and handed them to Hayato. "You need to carry this shit with you more often to the extreme, Octopus Head. You're like that high school kid who never has paper or pencils to do their work."

Hayato scoffed and took the gloves. "But I am still a genius." He put a glove on and leaned over the body, prying one of the eyelids of the informant's open and inspecting the eyeball with his pen light. He further inspected the informant's lips and fingernails.

"Yup, didn't think so."

"Huh?"

"There's no bluish tint to the lips or nailbeds... pupils are fixed and dilated -"

"Well, duh. He's dead."

"Shut up, asshole. I was getting to my point."

"Not fast enough for my liking."

Hayato stood and sighed. "Look, I know your feeble mind can't handle explanations but at least try on this one, alright asshole?"

"Wow...what a pretentious _dick_... to the extreme," Ryohei said with a smirk.

Hayato nudged him in the ribs. "Oh ho, a word that has more than two syllables. Impressive."

"Dude, just shut up already and tell me about the dead guy," Ryohei said with a laugh. He began walking around the informant's apartment.

"He didn't die from a heroin overdose. At least not one that's apparent," Hayato said, crouching down again to inspect the body.

"How so? Dude's got a needle sticking out of his arm to the extreme and a spoon in his hand. If that doesn't paint you a picture -"

"Exactly. It paints us an obvious picture. Too obvious."

Ryohei turned and raised a skeptical brow. "I know that look on your face. Are you thinking someone _killed_ him?"

Hayato stood and looked around. "I don't know yet. My gut tells me yes, but there isn't enough evidence for proof. For all I know he could have died from an air embolism."

"An air what?"

Hayato rolled his eyes. "A very large air bubble lodged into the blood stream. Could have been caused by too much air in the needle when he injected the heroin."

Ryohei screwed up his face. "The guy's a regular junkie to the extreme. You'd think he'd know how to tap out a few bubbles."

"Exactly. That's why I think it's unlikely that he did this himself. We have to wait for Kusakabe to do the autopsy before I can be sure."

"Well, let's say your extreme theory is right-"

"Have I ever been wrong?"

Ryohei rolled his eyes. "I'm not strokin' your already extreme ego, asshole."

Hayato laughed. "Wasn't asking you to, just stating the obvious."

Ryohei rolled his eyes again. "_Anyways,_ as I was saying... if you're right, there's no visible evidence left here by the killer. No forced entry, no signs of a struggle. It's a pretty extreme stretch, don't you think?"

Hayato used the light to search around the informant's slumped body propped up against a whitewashed wall stained yellowish brown from years of exposure to nicotine. He saw a lighter and the burnt spoon used to heat the heroin, an ashtray and cigarettes but nothing else that caught his eye. Except for the position of the body.  
"Hey, don't you think it's weird that he chose to sit here between this shitty makeshift kitchen and his bed to get high?" Hayato asked inquisitively.

Ryohei was currently inspecting the contents of the small bar refrigerator in the corner of the room next to a hot plate and a microwave that was at least ten years old, also stained a yellowish brown. He stood and faced Hayato.

"Nothin' but mustard packets in here... extreme," he muttered with a sigh. "Uh. I dunno, should it be weird?"

Hayato stood and shrugged, rolling his head and shoulders. "Not sure. I think it's odd, why wouldn't he get high on the futon? He'd most likely pass out afterwards so you'd think he'd want to be comfortable -"

"Hey... is that a hickey on your neck?"

Hayato snapped his head in Ryohei's direction who had his own pen light focused in on his neck. His cheeks burned. There was a fucking disgusting kiss mark on his neck left there by that fucking idiot, _what the fuck. _Had the Tenth seen it? Could everyone see it? "Wh-what? J-just where do you think you're pointing that thing, you bastard?"

Ryohei walked over to Hayato and leaned in, jabbing his finger into the flesh at the base of his neck beside his collarbone. "_Here_."

Hayato swatted his hand away and took a step back. That _fucker,_ stupid reporter idiot. "Don't touch me, asshole. It's not a hickey, I burned myself with a cigarette," he lied, turning away from Ryohei praying his face would stop burning.

Ryohei laughed. "Haha, yeah right! Octopus Head is gettin' some extreme action! Wow, who knew someone would have the patience to deal with your PMS mood swings... Out of all people and I'm still single... that's extremely depressing."

"I-I'm not dating anyone, what the fuck! It's not surprising you're still single, asshole. M-mind your own fucking business and get back to work!"

"I resent that to the extreme dude. I live my life to the extreme, who wouldn't want a piece of this?" Ryohei asked with a toothy grin and gesturing to his body.

Hayato may be gay and Ryohei may have an extreme good looking body but Hayato has absolutely no interest in the stupid boxing turf head that was extremely dense and annoying. He's never given it a thought. Hayato would never consider them friends, they never did anything outside of work except the occasional game of pool and a few beers together. And Hayato only went after Ryohei would nag him for at least a week prior to their outing. Ryohei was his partner and the Tenth trusted that they'd work well together so he put up with the turf top for Tsuna's sake. But never, _never _has Hayato found a single attractive quality in him.

"Che... I'm telling you _no one, _Lawn Head. Stop slacking and call Kusakabe. Tell him to notify the CSU and let them take over."

Ryohei scowled. "You're always so bitchy. I'd love to meet the chick that's brave enough to put up with your shit. I'd have to shake her hand. Or squeeze her ass. Haha, does she have a nice-"

He felt his face twitch with frustration. He reached out and fisted Ryohei's shirt and shook him. "Ugh, stupid Lawn Head! Shut up and do your job!"

Ryohei started laughing again. "You wanna go, one on one round for round? C'mon, let's do-"

"I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright. I'm dialing the fuckin' number."

Hayato let out an frustrated sigh and let go of Ryohei, supressing the urge to punch that stupid look off his face. He turned and began searching over the contents of the informant's apartment once more.

"I wouldn't have noticed it if you never had your shirt open to the extreme," Ryohei remarked smugly.

Hayato turned to glare at him but before he could say anything, Ryohei was talking to Kusakabe over the phone. He turned back towards the body and noticed the small bruise forming around the puncture wound. He inspected the arms, bare feet and hands of the corpse and saw the red and angry track marks left behind by the informant's filthy habit. Further down his left arm, the arm that he was using to inject the heroin into, were fresh, ragged lesions left behind by most likely a blunt needle from too many uses. There were a cluster of them closer to the wrist where it appeared the informant had used that spot quite frequently and recently, leading Hayato to believe that the spot was his common injection site because he knew he could it the vein there. Hayato inspected the puncture wound on the crook of the informant's elbow again and bit his lip. The puncture wound was tiny, there was no angry scratches or scarring around it. It was clean and precise. Something not seen on a junkie who doesn't have steady and patient hands and uses the same needle and spot to get high. He shined his light over the needle tip and from his angle it looked brand new.

Chewing his bottom lip and crouching in front of the body, Hayato worked the evidence into formulas in his brain. Every theory he had was plausible but could just as easily be proven improbable but Hayato trusted his gut. He always has and it's gotten him this far, even if the one time he faltered and fucked up he landed in bed with a hazardous yet alluring man and fucked up his career.

"Hey, Lawn Head... what did he say to you exactly? Was there any inclination that he had been found out, that he was being followed or anything?" he asked once he heard Ryohei was off the phone.

"Nah, he just said he had some new information on the killer. Said he talked to some people and got a description of the samurai guy, why?"

"Who did he talk to? Anyone he didn't know, anyone suspicious?" he asked, standing to face Ryohei again.

Ryohei gave him a long, confused look. "What's with this extreme paranoia? Know something I don't?"

Hayato knew at some point Ryohei would find out about him getting kicked off the case. And at some point he'd want to know why. Now just wasn't the time to delve into his personal life with his overly loud and annoying partner. Though Hayato liked to think ahead, the day's passing events have proven to confuse and frustrate him enough to leave his brain in a muddled mess of gray matter and he'd rather not have to constantly be one step ahead of something just for a minute. He'd keep his theories to himself until he was able to review the evidence so he could actually think properly.

"Nothing... I just wanted to make sure we covered all the bases." He took a look at the body. His gut was definitely telling him there was something more to this apparent overdose. Hayato just found it too convenient that he had a lead only to turn up dead. Pair that up with Mukuro's involvement with getting him kicked off this case, he was pretty damned certain there was more to it and it had nothing to do with paranoia.

Ryohei gave him another confused look and slipped his phone into his back pocket. "Okay then," he said awkwardly. He's been Hayato's partner for a while and he can tell the looks Hayato gets when he's thinking about something but he doesn't say anything because he also knows that Hayato is a hot head like he is and knows when to give him the space needed to think. Most of the time.

Though Ryohei was his partner and always had his back, Tsuna was his boss and he is as loyal to him as Hayato is. Was. Ryohei wouldn't let him near the case when he found out about what happened and Hayato didn't even want to think about his reaction when he did. He was just grateful that Ryohei didn't have the overwhelming compulsive need for answers like he did so that he was able to process all the information by himself. He's always worked best alone, he's always done everything alone. And if he could prove himself to the Tenth again; show him why he chose Hayato as his lead homicide detective and why he belonged there alongside his boss, helping him clear out the garbage of Namimori Middle, then maybe things would go back to normal.

Although now that his boss and probably over half the department knew about his personal life, he doubted anything would go back to normal.

"I'm gonna head back to the station and get started on the paper work and background check," Hayato said, clearing his throat and slipping the light into his jeans.

Ryohei shrugged. "Better you than me," he said nonchalantly. "I'll wait outside for the CSU, see you there when they've cleared the scene."

"Yeah... Don't forget to let Kusakabe know to do a full tox screen on the D.B."

"Yeah, I know man. Don't need to remind me of how to to my job, asshole," Ryohei said with a smirk.

"Whatever. Have fun dealing with Hibari," Hayato called, walking out of the apartment. He didn't hear if Ryohei had a retort.

When he got to his car he paused and worked the gears in his logical brain for a moment trying to separate feeling from fact. It was hard this time because he's never had feelings associated with this kind of thing before. He's never really had to break it off with someone... even of he didn't think there was a relationship to begin with; even if he didn't think Yamamoto deserved closure, let alone an explanation.

Still, he found himself searching for the number of Gazette, dialing it and asking the sugary voice that answered for Yamamoto Takeshi's extension. He knew he wouldn't answer and he knew that leaving the message would be cowardly and stupid, but it had to be done. Better to do it over the phone because he knew he wouldn't have the resolve to do it to his face. He'd definitely falter like he did this morning.

He felt like an idiot when the beep came and he paused for a few seconds before he said anything. But then remembering the conversation he had with his boss a few hours prior was all he needed to fuel his fire.

"Look... this isn't going to work out. I don't even like you, I don't know why the fuck it happened more than once but you weren't supposed to be anything more than just a fuck. I told you already I don't repeat yesterday's mistakes and I don't intend to, so stay the fuck away from me." His tone was angry smash harsh as he could get it to sound so that stupid idiot would understand.

He paused again, wondering if he should say something else; wondering if he was making the right decision.

Inwardly scoffing, he saved the message and hung up. Of _course _he was making the right decision, being a cop is something he's worked hard for, helping Tsuna follow is dream is what he's devoted to. He's told himself several times he owes Tsuna his life and the things he's done in the last few days have been nothing but selfish and reckless and his need for self destruction seems to be getting far worse. There was only one way to fix that, and that would be to take Yamamoto Takeshi - no, he's just the _reporter _now; the bastard baseball idiot. _You have to stop personalizing him, Hayato. It's where you went wrong in the first place_ \- out of the equation.

He hung up and got into his car. With that he felt better already, already his head felt clearer. He didn't need to concern himself with muscular and tanned, hazel eyed distractions. What he needed was to catch the killer and get back into his boss's good graces.

* * *

Luckily for him, when he had returned to the station Tsuna nor Mukuro was there and it didn't seem like anyone else had heard anything about him yet. Although he was sure Ryohei and Hibari would know soon enough about his recuse.

It was nice having a name to search for this time, Hayato had been annoyed with the lack of evidence and identification from this case but even if he might get himself into a little more trouble, he was going back to Sakura Town to get more information after he finished here.

Hayato checked the computer, read the report of their dead informant junkie. He was a pusher as well as a user. Hayato found he had been charged several times for selling narcotics to minors and that he was currently on out bail for constructive manslaughter charge; causing the death of a teenage boy who had a fatal reaction to the substances in the heroin the information had cut it with. He later admitted to doing that because he had been using the supply he was supposed to be selling for personal use and wasn't making enough money to pay back the dealer.

This guy liked to pray on the weak, _kids_. What a sick bastard. Hayato was almost pleased that he was dead, died from a possible overdose. Hayato felt in some way, justice had been served. It was possible that he had been making deals by acting as an informant and keeping himself out of jail. He was never an actual police informant, just an old acquaintance of Ryohei's that Ryohei used sometimes for information on the activities of the lower thugs that ran around in Sakura Town. Regardless, he had managed to slip through the cracks and was out shooting heroin and still selling to kids.

After a few hours at the station, long into the late night, Hayato left and drove to the coroner's building where Kusakabe confirmed his suspicions. The informant had been murdered.

_"Now, Gokudera-san... I've been told not to let you know any details regarding the present case you've been working on and I don't intend to, but I will let you know this one detail. Your D.B. was injected with etorphine, that was the cause of death,"_ Kusakabe had told him.

_"Etorphine... wasn't that used to sedate all the other victims?"_

_"Yes, etorphine is fatal to humans and each one of the victims had the antidote, naxolone in their system. It had been administered to negate the effects of the etorphine, which reacts just as quickly as the naxolone."_

If that was the case that meant that the same person who had killed the others had killed Ryohei's informant. But how did he know? Unless... unless Ryohei had mentioned to Tsuna that he was going to see the informant and he told Mukuro about it, giving Mukuro time to warn the killer. But why was the _Hakai _killing off its own members? Perhaps then it was an uprising gang war? And Mukuro was working with the other gang of yakuza thugs instead of the _Hakai_. Still, if that was the case they'd have to be influential enough to have a federal agent working for them. And Hayato knew of one gang that worked under the _Hakai_, an affiliation gang by the name of But they were minor league, not big enough to take on the _Hakai _by themselves. However, with an agent like Mukuro backing them up, maybe they could. Hayato just needed to figure out what Mukuro would stand to gain from helping a lower level gang take over Sakura Town. Regardless of the endless theories Hayato worked over in his mind, he was certain Mukuro was dirty and involved _somehow._

He found himself driving into Sakura Town again when he finally decided to give his brain a break. He knew after last night's encounter it was a _really _bad idea to be here but Hayato is stubborn and reckless and will stop at nothing to get answers for the greater good. It's not that his life wasn't meaningful, he didn't think it was but that wasn't why he was here. He _needed _some kind of validation. He needed to work this case even though he was kicked off it because he didn't trust Mukuro's influence on his boss and maybe the other detectives he'd put on the case. It wasn't fair for him doubt Tsuna and the others but Hayato didn't trust _anyone, _not even his own sister.

He parked his car and walked down the street with his head hung low even though he knew his silver hair and pale skin were a dead give away of who he was. Still, no one spoke to him. No one cut off his path and he walked right up to the largest brothel and demanded someone get him Tomakazu Tosaru.

The men that guarded that place, heavily tattooed from head to toe laughed at his request until Hayato pulled out his gun and pointed it at one of them.

Something had kind of snapped in Hayato's mind on the drive to Sakura Town. He wasn't being rational, there wasn't a single logical thought that ran through his head in this moment. He was done with corruption, done with liars and cheaters and manipulators. He has had it with this sin city and all its slick and greasy crime syndicates and the men who thought they were above the law. And he's had it with fucked up family members who invade your space and take over your life. He's completely done dealing with feelings and emotions that he's never had before, he doesn't want to feel anymore. He didn't believe he loved Yamamoto Takeshi, but maybe he liked him a little more than usual and if he couldn't fuck who he wanted because of these assholes and he couldn't have the job busted his ass for then they could all go to fucking hell and he was surely going to be the one to send them there.

"Where do ya think yer pointin' that gun?" one of the thugs laughed.

Hayato's hair fell over his eyes and the only thing visible on his face was the eerie curl of lips on a man who has gone mad.

"Where does it look like I'm pointin' it, yakuza-san? Now, are you gonna get your boss or am I gonna have to let my gun get his attention?"

The other thug drew his gun and stepped to the side of Hayato, digging the muzzle of his gun into his temple. "We're not afraid to kill ya, bakufu dog."

"Hm, that may be... but you'd definitely die trying," Hayato said with arrogance.

The thug to his right dug the gun in deeper, breaking the skin across Hayato's temple. He felt a warm trickle of blood slide down his cheek but felt none of the pain. "It would take less than a second for me to pull the trigger and then it's over."

"Get me your boss. I have a proposition for him." Hayato quickly lowered his AutoMag and rammed it into the gut of the man with the gun against his head. He stumbled backwards and fell on his bottom. Hayato took that opportunity to squeeze off two rounds, one to each kneecap.

The sound of the gunshots echoed through the house and the women that were in the room screamed and fled. Hayato knew that this was going to draw more attention, more men coming with guns who wouldn't hesitate to shoot him...

The man let out a blood curdling scream and the other thug jumped up from his seat. He pointed his gun at Hayato. "Oi! What the fuck-"

Raising his gun and aiming for the thug opposite him, Hayato laughed. "I can do the same for you in no time flat but then you wouldn't be able to fetch me your boss. But I can put this guy out of his misery by lodging a bullet between his ugly eyes, right in the middle of that _awful_ unibrow." Hayato looked down at the man on the floor, cradled in a fetal position and crying. "Dude, seriously, you should wax that." Did he really just say something that damned turf head would say?

"P-put a bullet in him-"

"Did you hear that, unibrow-san? Where is your loyalty? That's just cruel."

The man in front of him started shaking and Hayato assumed it was probably because a crazy person was scarier than a sane person and which sane person, especially a police officer, would go around shooting people in the heart of Sakura Town?

_This guy,_ Hayato thought with a smile.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger and shoot the thug in front of him when a sharp pain ripped through his leg and an explosion rang through his ears. Dropping to on his knee, he realized he had been shot through the calf by the man on the ground and before the man could shoot him again, Hayato put a bullet through his heart. Unfortunately that consumed too much time because before he could take care of the man in front of him, another shot crackled through the brothel and struck Hayato in the chest and he thought for a second that of all days he had decided not to wear a Kevlar vest that today had to be the day. He really was a foolish idiot.

The impact rocketed him backwards but not before Hayato fired three consecutive shots, two hitting the other thug in his chest and shoulder and the other bullet lodged itself in the wall beside his head. Nevertheless, the man crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

The bullet to his chest he could tell was a through and through and wasn't fatal. The adrenaline coursing in his veins served as a numbing agent for the pain he should be feeling. Bleeding, Hayato struggled to get up and stand on both legs. It was difficult but manageable. He still hadn't managed to get the attention of Tomakazu but maybe that was for the best. He was a little pissed off right now and there was no telling how many men would be flocking to the brothel after they heard the gunshots. Hayato didn't know how many he was going to have to kill either.

He drew in a ragged breath and jammed a magazine into his AutoMag. Better to reload now before he faced the firing squad. He staggered out of the house through the front and to his surprise, there wasn't anyone there. Not a single soul. He wasn't sure if he should thank the gods or be weary of the eerie silence of the streets. He decided both were in order and he began making his way out of Sakura Town, not seeing another person for the painfully slow journey out of that pleasure district. He could sense something was wrong, he knew he should be pummeled with lead by now, there's no way he should be able to make it out of here alive. Something was definitely wrong here.

When he got to his car he was winded and covered in blood, the wound in his chest was bleeding profusely, and he had nothing on hand to stop the bleeding. He was beginning to feel light headed but that didn't stop him from raising a bloodied cigarette to his lips and lighting it. The wound in his right leg was most likely going to prevent him from driving or at least make it difficult. He had no choice but to inform dispatch that there had been shots fired, officer shot and two men dead in that brothel.

It didn't take long for beat cops and the ambulance to arrive, the CSU arriving shortly thereafter. And sure enough, Tsuna had been in one of the unmarked cars.

"Gokudera-kun!" he shouted as he exited the car. His brown eyes were wide and his face was pale, his hair was an unruly mess.

Hayato lit another cigarette only to have a paramedic pluck it from his lips and scowl at him.

"Hey, what were you thinking?" Tsuna asked frantically once he caught up to Hayato.

Hayato had no explanation and couldn't bear to meet his boss's eyes. Too ashamed. "I... wasn't."

"Apparently not! Are you mad? I-I don't even know what to say to you anymore! This is singe handedly the _stupidest _thing you have ever done, Hayato!" he shouted.

Hayato knew Tsuna was really pissed off because he rarely ever used his given name. And never called him stupid. "I know," he muttered, still not making eye contact.

"Sir? We need to get Gokudera-san to a hospital," the paramedic said.

Tsuna looked at the paramedic like he hadn't even realized he was standing there. "Right," he said. "Very well." He looked back at Hayato and he saw a dark and serious anger cloud his boss's normally soft features and for a minute he felt a little fear. And awe.

"We're not finished this conversation yet, Hayato. But give me your badge and your gun, you're suspended."

Hayato didn't argue or protest and he pulled his badge from his belt and handed it over to Tsuna, covered in blood. He handed his gun to a CSU tech who bagged it as evidence. He really liked that gun...

"Your return will be determined after the internal affairs investigation. Argh, honestly! What a mess you've created, Hayato. And... and you're lucky you're not dead! I'm so relieved you're not d-dead!" Tsuna's voice wavered on the last sentence and before he lost his composure he walked away, leaving Hayato to feel like the biggest and most idiotic asshole. _Well,_ Hayato thought, _you deserve it don't you, idiot? _He should have apologized, but really, what would that have done?

His body felt heavy as he lowered himself on to the stretcher and his head felt fuzzy and light. He heard the paramedics yelling to each other about his drop in blood pressure but they sounded really far away.

It's funny how you can tell when the colour drains from your face, Hayato could feel it leave. He knew logically that it was because he was losing a lot of blood and he had no idea when the last time he had eaten. But he imagined the cartoons he used to watch when he was younger where the red colour would leave the character's face comically and wondered if that was what he looked like to everyone else. It certainly felt that way.

Hayato's eyelids began to feel heavy and he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be losing consciousness, his wounds weren't that serious. At least he didn't think so.

The paramedics were telling him to stay awake but he didn't want to, he just wanted to rest for a little while. It's funny how your mind works when you're about to fall asleep. They often say you think about the things you want to dream about right before you drift off. The only thing Hayato was thinking about as he closed his eyes was the way he felt this morning; warm, and comfortable... at ease. He had been too preoccupied to realize it earlier, but waking up next to Yamamoto every morning might not be so bad after all.


	13. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XIII

**_Chapter XIII_**

* * *

_Copper. Copper and lead. Copper and lead and ammonia._

That's what Gokudera Hayato tasted at the back of his throat the next time he had opened his eyes. The next time he had been lucid enough to tell, that is.

He knew he was in a hospital. He knew he had surgery on his leg to remove the bullet and his chest needed to get patched up. He knew they gave him annoying drugs for pain that made him sleep no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He knows the doctor told him he was lucky, the bullet had nicked a small artery and that was the only damage but if it had been to the left half a millimetre more, it would have been fatal. He also told Hayato he'd need to take it easy and take some time off his feet because the bullet in his calf had torn through a lot of ligaments. The doctor gave him an incredulous look and said Hayato was lucky to be alive especially coming out of Sakura Town.

He vaguely remembers Tsuna coming to see him and lecturing him about how reckless and out of control he's been, more so than he usually is. He remembers Tsuna blaming himself for Hayato's behavior and he remembers Tsuna calling him stupid a lot. He also remembers apologizing for everything he's done and for making Tsuna worry. He had messed up his priorities and forgotten his place beside the Tenth. Tsuna understood, he always did when it came to Hayato. He told Hayato that he was older now, he had his own life to live and that was okay. He wasn't judgmental, he was happy for Hayato and he wanted him to do what made him happy. He said they weren't kids anymore and though he wanted to change the city; make it a better place and rebuild the infrastructure up from scratch, he'd rather have his friends be happy because that's why he became the captain. Tsuna wanted to provide a safe place for his family and friends to be, he wanted to protect them and see them happy. That's what really mattered to him.

Tsuna tells him the next day that the man Hayato shot had survived and had been admitted to the very same hospital. He says that there will be a uni outside his door at all times, to protect him just in case. Hayato knows that guy is in worse shape then he is, the department doesn't need to waste manpower on guarding him but he doesn't turn down his boss's gesture.

He remembers the bland Internal Affairs officer who came to take his statement and told him he'd come at a later date to check in with him. He wants to make sure the stories match, especially when Hayato is conscious enough to lie. Like he would anyways, he had already been suspended. What was the worst that could happen?

To his horror, the worst that did happen was he also remembers asking for Yamamoto at some point, likely drug induced. At least that's what he tells himself.

Hayato blinked, his vision milky and his eyes burned from the florescent lights above him. He made a groaning sound and attempted to lift a hand but his arm felt like it was encased by cement. His whole body felt heavy but his head felt light and fuzzy. The drugs must still be working themselves through his system and he was determined to tell the nurses this time to stop the administration immediately. He hated feeling like this.

He tried to work up enough saliva to coat his tongue but the inside of his mouth was pasty and the bit of saliva he did work up only made the texture inside his mouth feel like glue.

Mustering as much strength as he could, and using his iron will; the will to not be a burden and useless, he dragged himself into a painful somewhat sitting position on the hospital bed and used the button to raise the upper half of the bed to support him. His chest hurt but his leg ached. Agonizing tingles shot up his leg and he whimpered a little.

He blinked a few more times and his vision began to swim back into focus. He started to see clearer now, the images were just a little cloudy around the edges. He looked around the room and saw that he had been put in a small but private room and everything here was white and sterile, except for an ugly green leather armchair in the corner of room.

He looked on the panel on the side of his bed for a nurse call button and found one and just as he went to push it, the door to his room opened slowly with a soft knock.

"Gokudera?"

Gokudera froze. He knew the way his name sounded rolling off this person's tongue. He didn't want to admit it, but he quite liked the way he said it. Still, he really didn't want to see this annoying idiot right now, especially when he was defenseless and useless, prone and confined to a hospital bed. He couldn't even open his mouth and utter a sound above a harsh whisper.

Yamamoto walked through the door, eyebrows knit into a worried furrow and his dark hair an unruly and tousled mess. Hayato noticed the dark bruise under his left eye, hidden by a new pair of glasses. Same black frames, large and thick. He really did look quite fuckable with his hair all messy and those thick frames. As Hayato's eyes drifted down his face he noticed a smaller bandage covering that deep gash he had on his chin. Remembering the night he found Yamamoto bent and broken brought rage back to boil within his blood and give him an uneasy, sick feeling in his stomach. Or maybe _that_ was because of the medication. Still, Hayato couldn't help but feel angry when he noticed his full lips were bruised and busted too, twisted into an unnatural frown but when he saw Hayato awake, he grinned wide.

Hayato took one look at his annoying and blinding smile and groaned.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed.

"Breaking news," Hayato muttered. It was barely audible.

Yamamoto moved into the room, grabbing the back of the leather chair and scraping it across the tile floor. The sound echoed sharply in Hayato's ears and he grabbed them and hissed.

"Oh, haha. Sorry," he said cheerfully. He set the chair beside the bed and sat down, still grinning. Hayato really wanted to punch him in the face, wipe that stupid grin clean. There was nothing exciting and happy about this situation.

"Are you stupid?" Hayato asked, stretching his voice paper thin.

Yamamoto cocked his head quizzically. "I don't know... am I supposed to be?"

Hayato growled with frustration, albeit nothing like a lion's roar but more sounding like a meager kitten's mewl. He wanted to laugh at how shitty his voice made him sound.

"Didn't you get my message? I told you to stay the fuck away from me." A little better this time, raising a few notches to a hoarse whisper.

Yamamoto frowned. "Ah, that message. Yeah... I got it."

Hayato studied him. He really wanted to know how much of a brain this idiot had. "And? Which part of it didn't you understand?" A few octaves higher, raspy but nearly back to his normal tone.

"I... understood all of it. And I would've respected it except I was sent to cover the story of an officer being shot and when I learned it was you... I couldn't stay away," Yamamoto said with a frown.

"Che... you aren't getting any kind of story from me, bastard," he said coldly.

"No, it's not like that. I really wanted to just be here with Gokudera," Yamamoto said, grinning once again.

"Do you find something funny?"

"No?"

"Then why do you keep smiling like that? It's pissing me off," Hayato ground.

"Haha, sorry. It's just when I'm around Gokudera I... I get nervous and really happy." He tried to stop smiling but it only made his grin wider.

"Che. Idiot."

"Haha, maybe... But Gokudera, you lectured me a few days ago about going to Sakura Town by myself and then you went and did the same thing. How come?" He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and leaned forward.

"I don't have to answer to you, sports freak. I thought you weren't here for a story... you can go now. I meant it when I said I didn't want to see you again." Hayato looked away then but out of the corner if his eye he saw the hurt pass over Yamamoto's face.

"I-I just wanted to know why you do dangerous things like that. Well... I'm glad you're okay. Really had me scared there, haha. Anyways, I'll go now." Yamamoto's eyes crinkled with the forced smile and he habitually rubbed the back of his neck.

Hayato forced his jaw shut, clenching his teeth. Why, why did he have to put on that look? The one where he looks like a kicked puppy, sad and disoriented. He doesn't know why it struck a chord, his heartstrings no less, but Hayato believes it's because he doesn't believe in cruelty towards animals.

"Get me some water," he said and it came out thickly, exactly how his mouth felt.

It was such a simple command yet Yamamoto's face lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Okay!" And with that he hurried out of Hayato's room in search for water.

Hayato sighed and leaned back against the flat pillows that offered both actual comfort. He felt exhausted already and his eyes felt heavy; he let them drop. He was just going to close them for a little while because when that stupid idiot came back, he'd be too loud and noisy for him to rest anyways.

Except when he opened them it was an entirely different time of day and Hayato heard a familiar soft snore coming from his bedside. He blinked the fog of sleep away from his vision and groggily rolled his head to get a better look.

Yamamoto was asleep uncomfortably in the armchair. His mouth was parted slightly, his hands were folded over his chest and his long legs were stretched out underneath the bed. His glasses were off and Hayato saw that they were on the bedside table along with a pitcher of water and a styrofoam cup.

Idiot.

Hayato struggled to sit upright completely and reach for the cup, especially because the hand he was trying to use still had the IV hooked up to it. He growled and cursed and he hadn't meant to, but he woke Yamamoto up. He stirred and blinked and smiled softly at Hayato.

"Sorry," he said, his voice smooth but husky. "I didn't want to wake you." It was that kind of voice that shot a tingle of recollection up Hayato's spine.

"Water," he grunted.

"Oh!" Yamamoto reached over and poured the water in the cup and handed it to him, and he drank it greedily and asked for more. Yamamoto laughed and happily obliged and Hayato believed if he was an animal, he'd be a dog and his tail would be wagging excitedly.

He drank enough until it sloshed around in his stomach and he felt bloated. He couldn't quench his thirst and he knew that was because of the pain medication.

"How long have I been in here?" he asked.

"Four days? Your boss, Tsuna told me you slept for an entire day after your surgery."

Hayato scowled. "You talked to my boss?" He groaned inwardly at all the possible idiotic things this idiot could have said to Tsuna.

""Well yeah, I came here as soon as I heard and when I got here, Tsuna was just leaving. He's a really great guy, you know."

"Idiot. Of course I know."

"Haha, right. Anyways, we went down to the cafeteria and he told me about how you guys met and how long you're been friends for. I think it's amazing that Gokudera has someone like that to look out for him," Yamamoto said with a smile.

"The Tenth is an amazing man," Hayato remarked, leaning back against the bed. He winced when he moved his chest the wrong way. The must be a nasty bruise from the bullet impact near the gunshot wound on his chest. Yamamoto shot up instinctively and reached out to him and he startled Hayato with the sudden movement.

"Ha, sorry. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Where are my things? My... my rings? Where are they?" Hayato looked around the room a little frantically, hurting his neck and making himself dizzy in the process.

"Your boss said your personal effects were put in that locker," Yamamoto said, pointing to a thin white locker in the far corner of the room. It had been shielded by the privacy curtains before. "Except for your clothes. Say, do you want me to get you some?"

"Huh?" Hayato hadn't been paying attention, he just wanted to make sure that he had his rings. Well, his ruby one at least.

"Clothes... your clothes were bloody and taken in for evidence. Do you want me to get you some new ones?"

Hayato didn't like the idea of Yamamoto going back to his house, alone and with his crazy sister. Or with the situation of the people that had been following him. He did need clothes, however. He really wanted to shower.

"I suppose it can't be helped," Hayato muttered. "Just don't tell my sister. She's insane and she'll come here and make a scene."

"Haha, your sister must really love you! I think that's great. I don't have any siblings."

"It's not great. She's crazy and she doesn't love me. She just loves to annoy me. Bianchi is only here in Japan because she's bored at home, so she's come to bother me," Hayato said with a sigh.

"Haha, I see... I'll get them tomorrow, okay?"

"Fine. And don't be sticking around either. Don't you have a job to go to?"

"Haha, yeah I do! But Miura-san has been pretty nice lately, since that happened to me. She said a certain officer gave her a lot of grief because of it," Yamamoto said with a big smile.

"Che... It was because she's stupid. It could have happened to anyone. Don't think it's because I like you or anything," Hayato spat, feeling a little heat in his cheeks.

"Haha, okay. Anyways, I told her that I'll be back to work when I'm ready. And... I don't wanna go back until you're better."

Hayato sighed. "What a fuckin' sap. Why am I putting up with you? Go home or something. You're annoying, idiot."

Yamamoto laughed and sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He stopped and went silent for a second and then sighed. "I'm glad you're okay... Really glad," he said, a little dejected.

Some kind of switch went off in Hayato's mind and he realized that as much as he tried to fight it, his subconscious had been telling him he wanted Yamamoto all along. He's not sure of the feeling, Bianchi calls it love but Hayato doesn't know the definition of love. He doesn't know what it feels like to love someone and he doesn't remember how it feels to _be_ loved. Whatever it is it's a feeling that scares Hayato but it makes him feel good. It only scares him because it's the unknown and he is deathly afraid to let anyone in. He's not ready to yet but he's not ready to let go of Yamamoto either. He'll eventually be reinstated as an officer and Yamamoto can figure out something on his end, because Hayato enjoyed fucking him _a lot _and because as annoying as he was, Hayato really enjoyed his company. He'll never admit that though. Admitting things makes them more real, involves another person and leaves room for them to remember when he decides he's had enough and pushes the memories and feelings to the back of his mind and tries to forget.

Yamamoto was looking at him, his eyes earnest and pleading and Hayato could read his thoughts through them. He grabbed Yamamoto's arm and tugged. He didn't know what he was doing but he wasn't allowing himself to think about it. He was just going to let his body move.

"Come here," he said quietly, part of him still begging Yamamoto not to hear him, not to let his body do things his mind was dead set against.

Yamamoto looked down at his hand and back up at Hayato, surprised at the initiation of affection. "O-okay." He scooted up the bed and Hayato shifted to make room for the large body. Yamamoto laid down beside him and hooked an arm around his waist.

The bed was already narrow for Hayato's frame and now there was barely room to breathe, pressed up against Yamamoto while he lay on his back. He squirmed, cursing as he pulled the tender muscles in his wounded leg and cursing when Yamamoto started preening over him. Finally he made Yamamoto lay on his back so he could lay on his side, draping his wounded leg carefully across Yamamoto's legs and not caring how vulnerable and free he felt in the paper thin hospital gown he wore. He laid his head down on Yamamoto's chest and listened carefully and with interest at how fast and erratic his heart was beating.

Yamamoto kissed his forehead and stroked his hair and Hayato felt dazed. He was warm though by logic he should feel cold with the amount of skin he had exposed. His mind was concentrated on Yamamoto's heartbeat and his fingers were splayed over his chest, memorizing the thudding vibrations of his heart he felt through them. It felt strange, this kind of intimacy, but at the same time it felt right. He wasn't sure how or why, because all logic tells him is that he's going to get hurt and that he shouldn't trust anyone, it tells him that having these feelings (whatever they are) towards another man is wrong. But in this moment, Hayato is content and he hasn't felt happy in a very long time. He hasn't felt _this _way in his lifetime.

Yamamoto doesn't stop stroking his hair and his thumb traces circles against the small of his bare back. The relaxation this creates is better than the morphine he's been given. He doesn't need it, only Yamamoto's heat and the sound of his heart to lull him to sleep.

* * *

"I don't need you to take care of me, bastard!" Hayato hissed when Yamamoto tried to put an arm around him to help steady him on the crutches.

"The doctor said you needed someone to help you," Yamamoto protested as they stood waiting for the elevator. Today was the day Hayato was getting released from the hospital, told to take it easy with lots of bed rest.

Like hell he was going to lay around and just be lazy.

"Don't touch me so friendly like that, we're not friends."

"Haha," Yamamoto laughed. "I don't really get you sometimes."

"People will see and make assumptions," Hayato said through clenched teeth. The elevator doors opened with a chime and the he hobbled in on his crutches.

Yamamoto walked in through the doors and shrugged. "What does it matter what people think? I like you... and I think you like me," he said with a laugh, scratching his cheek.

"Che... as if," Hayato muttered, pressing the ground floor button.

"Haha, say what you want but actions speak louder than words, Gokudera."

"Do you _ever _stop talking?"

Yamamoto leaned in close and brushed his lips against Hayato's. "Are you gonna make me?" he said in a low, teasing voice.

A shudder rippled through Hayato. "I-idiot... people will see."

Yamamoto ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips and pulled back, leaving a very heated and flustered Hayato. "So what?"

"Y-you're just too s-stupid for your own good! People will use that against me, against you... against the Tenth. Just don't do it, alright?"

"Okay, okay. Don't worry." Big toothy smile.

The two exited the elevator and made their way to the front of the hospital where Yamamoto's car was parked. Hayato struggled a little into the passenger side and Yamamoto did what he was told and didn't try to help.

The drive was surprisingly quiet until Hayato noticed Yamamoto had taken the wrong exit to his house.

"Oi... where are you taking me?"

Yamamoto looked over at him and flashed him a grin. "You said you couldn't eat the hospital food right? And the doctor told me you were suffering from malnutrition and dehydration when you were brought in, so I'm gonna take you to eat a good, home cooked meal."

Hayato snorted. "You're not my wife or my date. Just take me home."

"Mm, wife huh?" Yamamoto mused with a smirk.

"Shut up. Take me home."

"Your sister is there," Yamamoto reminded him. During the course of the last week and a half, Hayato has let Yamamoto in, little by little. He's told him a few small details, enough to paint a simple picture, even for someone as simple minded as he. Yamamoto hasn't told him much about his life except for his love of baseball and Hayato never listened much to that. He would ramble on and on and Hayato just tells him to shut up, baseball is boring and that he didn't want to know, nor _cared _to know any if his business anyways.

Hayato rolled his eyes and growled. "I don't have control over a single thing in my life right now. Kicked off the force, kicked out of my house and now kidnapped by a stupid baseball freak. No fucking say in anything, ugh! Do you know how fucking annoying that is?"

"Must be very annoying for a control freak like you," Yamamoto said teasingly. He dropped a hand to Hayato's thigh and slid it up slowly to his crotch.

"Oi... Where do you think you're touching?! Keep your hands on the wheel, you bastard," Hayato warned but he already felt heat pooling in his belly.

Yamamoto rubbed the bulge in his jeans and took a sidelong glance at him, smirking. "And doesn't one have to be taken against their will for it to be kidnapping? You say it like you don't like it."

It's been the first sexual contact he's had with Yamamoto since he came to the hospital last week. Being in the same room with him, annoying as he is, didn't stop Hayato's physical attraction towards him and containing himself in a public place with injuries was extremely difficult to do. Now, even this simple friction has got him feeling a euphoric sensation, hot and heavy spreading through his chest to his groin. He lifted his hips and bucked into Yamamoto's hand cupped over his dick. And then a raspy moan escaped his lips, mortifying him and jerking him back to reality.

"F-fuck you, bastard," Hayato stuttered and swatted his hand away. "J-ust drive." His lungs expanded and he drew in a breath. His face and ears were burning and he quickly turned his head to look out the window of the car.

"Haha, it calmed you down, didn't it?"

"If you call wanting to punch you calm, then I guess so," Hayato snapped.

"Mm, so cruel, Gokudera. I promise you'll like this place. Okay?"

"Whatever. Just drive, baseball idiot."

Yamamoto had driven into a more rural and suburban part of town, one Hayato didn't really recognize. They weren't driving for much longer when they pulled into a sushi restaurant's parking lot. The lot was small, but the building was large covering a nice wide area of land.

"What is this place?" Hayato asked.

Yamamoto ignored him and got out of the car and waited for Hayato to maneuver himself out of the passenger side. "It's a sushi place. We're gonna have dinner here. You like sushi?"

Hayato eyed him suspiciously. "Not particularly, but if you're paying then whatever... You said this was a sushi restaurant? It's _huge._ And in this part of town? I can't imagine it gets that much business," Hayato remarked, leaning on his crutches.

Yamamoto turned to face him, walking backwards. He smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose. "No... not much anymore. It's a ma and pa shop and attached to it is a dojo and on the other side it's a small house. The sushi here is great!"

Hayato smirked at the mental imagery of Yamamoto tripping over his feet and falling onto his backside. They had almost gotten to the door when Hayato asked, "How do you so much about this place? You come here often?"

Yamamoto stopped and smiled wide. "Yeah, I do. It's my dad's place."

Hayato froze. "Your dad? You brought me to meet your _dad? _You're fucking kidding, right? I know your brain is still trapped in your first year of middle school, but _really?_ Yamamoto-"

Yamamoto stepped up to Hayato and put his hands on his shoulders. "Relax, Gokudera. He's not here. Tuesdays he locks up the shop early and volunteers at the local veterinary hospital. It's just going to be us, and I'm going to cook for you." He smiled wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Though Hayato had been feeling flustered and angry and a whole lot of other negative emotions just moments before, the weight of Yamamoto's large hands on his shoulders and bright smile seemed to calm him down. It was as if he possessed a certain tranquil quality to him that he was able to pass on to others. Hayato noticed he had that ability the first time he broke rule number three, never spend the night with someone you fuck. But when he laid down next to him that very first time, Hayato felt that his tranquility had washed away all his stresses in that instance and he found that whatever it was that made Yamamoto's presence so calming, he was already addicted to it.

"Che... you better not poison me," he muttered finally, giving in to Yamamoto _again_ which seemed to be a recent and regular occurrence.

"Haha, I'm not your sister. I'm not as great as my dad, but I've learned from the best. You won't be disappointed," Yamamoto said with a wink. He turned and used to he keys he held in his hand to open the shop.

They stepped inside and Yamamoto gave Hayato a short tour before tossing off his jacket and stepping behind the glass sneeze guard to the sushi bar. "What do you like?"

Hayato eased down on one of the stools and took a look at his options. He looked up at Yamamoto and scrunched up his nose. "I don't like raw fish so... surprise me."

Yamamoto laughed. "I can't believe you don't like raw fish!"

"Yeah well... there's just some things that should be eaten cooked. Well done. And fish is definitely one of them."

Yamamoto scratched his cheek. "Hm, I don't know whether to blame that on your sister or your Italian heritage," he said with a laugh.

"Idiot, don't say anything and just make the food," Hayato urged.

Yamamoto stilled and looked at Hayato, his hazel gaze soft and questioning almost. It made Hayato feel a little uncomfortable and insecure, like he was being put under a microscope and studied.

"What?" he asked harshly.

Yamamoto's lips curled into a slow smile. "Nothing... I was just thinking about how much I really like Gokudera."

Heat spread across his face to the tips of his ears and he grabbed his crutches and stood.

"Bastard," he hissed. "I'm going to look around. Call me when your done." He started walking towards the entrance to Yamamoto's father's home.

"Haha, okay! Make yourself comfortable, I'll bring you in a beer."

"Whatever," Hayato murmured as he opened the wooden screen doors. Why did Yamamoto have to continuously make things awkward by saying stuff like that? Why couldn't it be like_: Hey, I think you're hot. Let's fuck. _Or _I'm not into liking you, but I like your dick so let's fuck. _Or how about saying nothing at all and just get straight to the fucking?Something straightforward and to the point, without any of this feelings bullshit. Yamamoto just makes everything more complicated. Hayato doesn't really want to be liked or loved. He just wants to fuck, at least that's what he has to keep reminding himself of.

Yamamoto's main living room was very simple. A brown suede sofa, a nice flat screen television, a few plants here and there to add some colour. Very simple. Hayato noticed the trophy case almost instantly. Walking up to it he counted a total of eighteen trophies, all won by Yamamoto Takeshi in either baseball or kendo. Several of them were Kōshien Championship trophies for first place and MVP of the year. There was still so little he knew about Yamamoto and he wondered what happened for him to go from being such a star athlete to a reporter for the Gazette. Well, he started off as a sports columnist, so perhaps an injury prevented him from playing pro league. Hayato felt a tiny, nearly minuscule, bit of pride for being with one of Namimori's most memorable star baseball players.

Correction. Not being _with _him, just _fucking _him.

Moving over to the fireplace, he noticed a few picture frames on the mantel. Plain, wooden frames positioned both vertically and horizontally. Hayato set his crutches aside and picked them up, one by one. Most of them were of Yamamoto when he was younger, in middle school and in his baseball uniform. Hayato had to admit that even as a teenager, Yamamoto was very attractive and he _hated _to admit that he looked especially attractive in his baseball uniform.

He picked up the middle frame, the largest of them all and it was of Yamamoto and his family. His dad and his mother and Yamamoto. He looked to be a teenager here, but out of the awkwardness and growing into his handsomeness. His mother was a beautiful woman, with large almond shaped eyes and long, silky looking black hair and his father brandished the same wide and bright grin that Yamamoto wore all the time. Except in this picture, he wore a lazy grin; lopsided and crooked but smug and a bit arrogant. He fit that look for his age, Hayato guessed. He probably had a really big ego back then and Hayato could tell that by looking at his eyes. They were the eyes that Hayato sees whenever Yamamoto gets serious and they weren't covered by glasses.

They sat on the bleachers, Yamamoto in the middle, on one lower than his parents with an elbow on each of their legs. Both of his parents were smiling with a hand rested on his shoulders.

Hayato studied the picture, feeling like something was off. Yamamoto looked different here, no glasses and smug smile but now he's got thick, framed glasses and his smile is blinding. He gets that same look in his eye every now and again, Hayato has seen it a few times. But something had changed between then and now, but Hayato couldn't figure out what. Maybe an eye injury that caused him to have to wear glasses? He obviously couldn't wear contacts, Hayato believed he probably would if he could. He'd even wear contacts if he could but he had a special condition where the material of the contacts irritated his eyes. He only really needed them to read so he was content about wearing glasses.

The other thing that bothered him was that he had never heard Yamamoto mention his mother. The last week Yamamoto has talked a little about his dad, talked about them being really close but he hasn't heard him say anything about his mother. Even when they had been outside the restaurant, he had said it was his _dad's _place, not his_ parents'_ place.

He heard the padding of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Yamamoto with a beer in his hand and a smile on his face. Hayato turned back to set the picture on the mantle when Yamamoto wrapped his arms around his waist.

Hayato shifted the weight off his good leg and leaned into Yamamoto, letting his weight support him. Yamamoto set his chin on Hayato's shoulder.

"That was me when I was nineteen, right after the last baseball season I played. That's my dad and that's my mom," he said, pointing to picture.

Yamamoto always smelled really good, his skin always smelled like fresh soap with just a hint of the outside, dirt and air and sunlight. Hayato closed his eyes and breathed in his scent, memorizing the uniqueness of it.

"Where's your mom now?" Hayato asked, treading carefully. He didn't want to pry or make it sound like an interrogation. He was just curious.

"She died five years ago," Yamamoto replied quietly. He didn't elaborate and Hayato didn't push it.

"My mother died too," he offered instead. "When I was three. I never really knew her. I... I was an illegitimate child, my father had an affair with her. He was a powerful man so he took her from me when I was born and raised me with his wife. I found out a few years later when I was eight and I..." He trailed off when he realized he had already said more than he wanted to. He was normally so composed but Yamamoto made it so easy to talk to, Hayato just couldn't shut his mouth around him and he didn't know why.

Yamamoto lifted a hand and brushed Hayato's hair off the back of his neck and softly kissed from the nape to the base. "I'm sorry," he whispered , his breath warm. It made Hayato's flesh bump and tingle from head to toe. He turned his head and caught Yamamoto's lips as they passed by his. Yamamoto held him tighter, draping one arm over his shoulders and chest. Hayato closed his eyes and felt the soft roughness of Yamamoto's tongue brush against his lips and he opened his mouth, letting it slide in.

Hayato's body felt weightless, the kiss made his head feel light. This one was different from the ones before, this one was slow and tentative. Sensual, if Hayato had to use a word to describe it. Intimate, if he had to use two. He never knew kisses could feel like this and it was strange, because he thought he could sense a lot more feeling from this one, not just lust. It scared him a little, this nameless emotion but even Yamamoto's kiss was tranquil, it had the same effect on Hayato as everything else Yamamoto did to him.

Yamamoto was drawing his tongue out, lazily coaxing him to respond and Hayato did, rolling his tongue over Yamamoto's and gradually exploring the inside of his mouth. He always had the taste of spun sugar, sweet and saccharine but there was something else that hit Hayato's tastebuds when his tongue clashed against Yamamoto's, when he tasted all of his mouth. It was a taste difficult to describe, and if he'd have to use a word it would simply be _umami. _Something incredible, something delicious but all at the same time indescribable. Better than any age old whiskey or cigarette, better than the freshest brewed Italian or Colombian coffee and definitely better than any food Hayato has ever tasted.

Letting nothing but sense take over, Hayato could feel the cool night air that drifted in through an open window on his sensitive and goosebumped skin. He felt the tingles, not painful like pins and needles, that started in his toes and followed up his spine and stretched out in the back of his neck. He could feel the heat that spread through his chest and into his stomach and finally down to his groin. Unintentionally, he moaned into Yamamoto's mouth and it was a moan unlike any other he had heard himself make. It sounded embarrassing, pleading and needy yet it did nothing to stop him.

However, the pressure in his lungs and the dizziness in his head did, and he regrettably had to part for air. He tried not to pant, make it seem like he had not been about to lose his cool but Yamamoto slid his hand desperately through Hayato's hair and clutched it, forgetting that he needed to breathe too and pressed his lips firmly to Hayato's. This time he didn't wait for Yamamoto's tongue, he took control and just as Hayato began to get lost in another one of those kisses, Yamamoto broke away and chuckled.

"Come," he panted playfully. "Let's eat."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Little bit of fluff here, next chapter will have some fluffy smut. Yay! **

**Anyways, reviews feed my starving ego. Don't disappoint! xo**


	14. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XIV

_**Chapter XIV**_

* * *

Yamamoto had suggested Hayato take a bath while he cleaned up after dinner. He was reluctant at first, but Yamamoto started to annoy him so he agreed. And he was glad that he did because it gave him time to think about everything that had happened since he first stepped on the crime scene of the serial killer's first victim and everything else that's happened since meeting Yamamoto. He's tried several times to reevaluate his relationship with the reporter but the end result is always the same. He's just not happy with giving up something he enjoys because a creepy pineapple fairy says he has to, despite the influence he has over Tsuna.

Dinner was great, and he'd be damned if he complimented Yamamoto so he just tucked it away like he does everything else. The conversation was light, no work and no past just random nonsensical chatter. Yamamoto wasn't a bad guy, annoying and stupid, but he wasn't bad company. He felt relaxed and amazing and a little buzzed from the pain medication he had taken that day before he left the hospital and the few beers (and the few cups of saké) he had at dinner.

Coming out of the bathroom dressed in jeans and a worn tee, he limped down the narrow hallway towel drying his hair. Yamamoto turned the corner and met him halfway.

He grinned and reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around a lock of Hayato's damp hair. "Wah, it gets a little curly when it's wet, haha."

Hayato could feel himself blushing and he swatted Yamamoto's hand away. "Stop that," he hissed. He saw Yamamoto's cheeks turn a faint pink. He didn't think he's ever seen Yamamoto with that flushed look when he hasn't been fucking him. It was kind of... cute.

_Did you really just think that?_

"Sorry, haha. Hey, you're not using your crutches."

"Che, I don't need those stupid things. If I don't try, I'll never get better."

"If you put too much strain on it, it'll never get better either, haha. Come, I'll show you my room."

"You live here?" Hayato asked incredulously.

"Haha, no. I have my own apartment closer to town but sometimes I stay here and help my dad out. It's my room from when I was in high school so it's a little juvenile. My dad never changed it after I moved out, haha." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head.

"Oi, baseball freak. I ain't gonna stay at your dad's house in your teenage bedroom when I got my own place."

Yamamoto grasped his hand and tugged. "C'mon, please? Let's not go back to your place where your sister is, let's just enjoy the place to ourselves, ne?"

Hayato sighed. How many times was he going to just give in to this idiot? He wanted to put his foot down and say no, but Yamamoto's big, pleading eyes behind those frames struck a soft spot within him. "I hate you, you know that?" he growled.

Yamamoto laughed. "Is that a yes?"

"Che. Do as you please, idiot."

Yamamoto grinned and threw his arms around Hayato's neck, nearly knocking him backward. "You make me so happy, Gokudera!"

"Oi!" Hayato shouted with surprise. "And don't say things like that! You're a ridiculously big kid, aren't you?!"

"Haha, maybe! Come, it's this door here." Yamamoto dragged him to a closed door beside the bathroom and opened it up. Hayato stepped inside and honestly, he can't say he wasn't surprised to see baseball shit _everywhere_. Posters and pennants on the walls, a small glass trophy case with _more _trophies and encased baseballs and gloves. Only the bed sheets, which were a navy blue, were safe from the childhood memorabilia.

"Ha... you weren't joking," Hayato said, bemused.

"Haha, it's okay right? The bed's big enough for two," Yamamoto said suggestively, nudging Hayato in the ribs.

Hayato couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips but he hid it in a scoff. "You idiot. How many guys have you used that line on?"

Yamamoto looked over at Hayato in disbelief. "None," he said seriously.

Hayato is curious by nature. He likes answers to all his questions, things that are logical and make sense and when he doesn't get something, his first reaction is to ask questions. He's also a police officer and interrogations come naturally. He doesn't mean to but he also has a problem with keeping his mouth shut, because he's also blunt and brutally honest (most of the time) by nature.

"When did you know?" he blurted. "Because I don't understand how, if you knew all this time -"

Yamamoto turned towards him and leaned against the door frame. "What, that I was gay? I didn't, really."

Hayato raised a skeptical brow and leaned back against the other side of the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you mean you didn't know? You're pretty fucking aggressive when it comes to me, you can't expect me to believe that."

Yamamoto shrugged. "I like you."

Hayato narrowed his eyes. His nature is also to be suspicious of everyone first, guilty in his eyes until proven innocent. "You don't go from liking chicks to liking dick with the snap of a finger, bastard. Stop being so fucking cryptic. I fucked you the first night I met you. You were practically begging for it. Virgin my ass," he said sourly.

Yamamoto frowned. "It's not like that. I've seen you in the papers, I've heard all about the amazing things you do for this city and you... you just caught my interest."

"People pique my interest all the time, doesn't mean I want to fuck them. There are certainly some women out there that I could find interesting but it wouldn't mean I'd find them attractive enough to fuck the second I got them alone. That's absurd, idiot."

Yamamoto sighed. "Why... why do you make everything so difficult?"

"_Me_? I'm just trying to figure you out, I don't understand you and it irks the fuck right outta me. You say you didn't know you were gay, you say you were a virgin but you fuck like a pro and you do shit with your mouth that I didn't even know was possible. You see that? Those two formulas don't have any common denominator. It doesn't make _sense,_ Yamamoto."

Yamamoto scratched his head. "When I was a teenager, I was focused on baseball and kendo, helping my dad with the shop and school. Sure, I thought girls were attractive and I dated a few but they never lasted more than a couple of days. I was too busy to care and cared more about other things... but when I first saw Gokudera in person... I was blown away. You're so beautiful."

Hayato's face began to burn and his heart began to race. "I-idiot, don't say-"

"I have to. I have to, right? You don't understand so I'm going to tell you, no matter how embarrassed you get. So just shut up and listen." The tone Yamamoto used was stern but not abrasive and it made Hayato's heart suspend mid beat. He closed his mouth and pouted.

"When I first saw you, it was like nothing else. I can't even explain it, I'm not good at that kind of stuff, haha... But being with you made me feel things I've never felt before and I just wanted you. Every bit of you. I... I fell for you fast and maybe I was gay all along, maybe none of those relationships worked before because I didn't _want _them to. Whatever it is, it's you. It's always been just you."

Hayato didn't bother to hide the flaring red that he knew his face was but he couldn't make eye contact with Yamamoto. Things like feelings just don't make sense to him and maybe now he's starting to understand a little bit because he's been feeling things he's never felt before but he doesn't understand how someone can just put so much faith in such an unreliable thing.

"And the other thing... well, I just don't know but when I'm with you it's so _hard_ to keep my hands off you. The things I do is just instinct, I don't know what I'm doing but I guess... when we're together that way, I feel bold. I want to make you feel the way I feel so I just go with what my gut tells me to do. And when I see that you like it, I remember it. I remember everything when it comes to Gokudera."

Hayato felt Yamamoto's hand wrap around his arm and he tugged on it, and Hayato let himself be led into his arms.

"Whatever happened to you to make you this way, I'm sorry... but my feelings for you are pure and honest. You can trust me."

Hayato was at a loss for words. He hated feeling so vulnerable, having someone see right through him. But being here and hearing these words, no matter how skeptical he was of them still, made him feel good, warm and content. He's stubborn so he didn't respond to the hug or Yamamoto's words and they just stood in the doorway of his bedroom in silence.

But silence isn't something Yamamoto is capable of and he breaks it by laughing which really pisses Hayato off. He pulled away from Yamamoto and punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" he winced, still laughing.

"Bastard! What the hell is so funny!"

"Haha, I told you, Gokudera makes me nervous! And you're not saying anything so I don't know what else to do."

Hayato scowled. "Che, idiot. I'll tell you what to do! Go shower and get your fucking ass to bed. Bastard. Laughing at people after saying those kinds of things. Honestly, you're unbelievable."

Yamamoto laughed and pulled Hayato into him again and kissed him hard and quick. "You're really cute when you're mad."

"Say that again, I dare you. There is absolutely _nothing _cute or beautiful about me, I'm a fucking man!"

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes and got real serious, cupped Hayato's crotch and smirked. "I know," he said smugly.

Hayato jumped back and growled. "Go shower, you bastard or I'm gonna beat you up."

"Haha! Alright, alright. I'm going! Gokudera's so cruel." Yamamoto walked into his room and grabbed some clothes from his dresser drawer while Hayato glared at him.

"I'm going, I'm going," he said, laughing as he walked into the bathroom.

"What an idiot," Hayato muttered.

He walked into Yamamoto's room and looked at his things, picking up this and (secretly) admiring that before shedding off his clothes and climbing into bed and under the sheets. They smelled clean, but they also smelled like him, fresh and earthy from years of exposure to his natural and unique musk. It was strange to be in someone else's house, in someone else's bed but it felt more comfortable than his own. It's not that these sheets were thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets or the fine, Italian linens he used to sleep on in his father's castle, but the touch of them against his naked skin was comfortable; relaxing and somewhat exciting at the same time. It was the thrill of something new, something Hayato had never done before. He never slept anywhere other than his own bed (never at the motels - except for that one time with the idiot and maybe his car) and the fact that. it was Yamamoto's bed made it all the more erotic.

He was almost asleep when he heard footsteps outside the bedroom. He opened his eyes and they were blown wide when Yamamoto walked through the door, dripping wet with beads of water still glistening on his skin. His hair was tousled and unruly, fraying out in sporadic licks. He wore no glasses and the bandage was off his chin, revealing a deep scar from the base of his chin to within an inch of his lower lip closer to the right. He was dressed in only black boxers, with a thumb hooked into the front of his waistband and a hand resting on the door knob.

Hayato had to snap his mouth shut because for a second there, he was petty sure he was drooling.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Yamamoto said softly, closing the door behind him.

"I wasn't sleeping," murmured Hayato, adverting his gaze from the tantalizing sight before him.

"Oh, okay then." Yamamoto walked over to the bed and crawled into it. A rush of cool air hit Hayato's warm skin and he shuddered.

Yamamoto gasped. "Gokudera... are you na-"

"Shut up, you bastard. I like to sleep like this. Got a problem with it?"

A devilish grin spread across Yamamoto's face. "No."

"Then come here and pull the blankets up. It's cold, idiot."

Yamamoto scooted closer and draped an arm around Hayato's waist. "You okay? From earlier, I mean."

"I'm fine."

"Tired?"

"A little," Hayato lied. Now that there was skin on skin contact, Hayato's cock was determined to keep him awake.

Yamamoto hummed. "So... should I let you sleep or should I...?"

Hayato felt Yamamoto's long fingers trace down his abdomen and brush the tip of his cock. His breath hitched, ever so slightly and he turned his head to face Yamamoto. "You should definitely do that," he said with a smirk and Yamamoto's eyes went dark.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against Hayato's and wrapped his fingers around his shaft. He stroked it slow and broke away from the kiss, licking his lips. "Like this?"

Hayato felt an anticipating flutter in his stomach. "Yeah." He turned on his side and took Yamamoto's cock in his hand. He thumbed the slit and licked a hard stripe from Yamamoto's neck to his ear. "Should I do this?"

Yamamoto's hand tightened around his dick and he moaned quietly. "Yeah." He pumped a little faster and Hayato matched his rhythm. He kissed Hayato again, this time a little more desperately, biting his lip and following it with his tongue. He took his hand off Hayato and pushed him down on his back, shifting so he was looming over him.

Hayato looked up at Yamamoto with a bit of surprise and confusion and Yamamoto licked his lips, leaning in and assaulting his neck with his teeth. He left a wet trail of kisses down Hayato's chest and stopped at his navel. He looked up at Hayato with hunger in his eyes. "Can I do this?" he asked, licking up Hayato's shaft.

Hayato bit his lip and clutched Yamamoto's hair with one hand. "Yeah," he said with a smirk, tugging on Yamamoto's hair for emphasis.

Yamamoto took him into his hot mouth and swirled his tongue around the length, stopping to pay attention to his head. Hayato propped himself up on his elbows and let his head fall back, groaning as Yamamoto tightened the grip he had with his mouth. Hayato held his head steady, still grasping Yamamoto's thick hair and letting the heat rush through him like a wildfire. He lifted his hips a bit, delving deeper into Yamamoto's mouth until he hit the back of his throat and Yamamoto groaned, the vibration rippling down his cock.

"You like that?" he sneered, lifting Yamamoto's head up to look at him. Yamamoto's lips curled around his cock and he nipped at the head gently. It caused Hayato to shudder, relaxing his grip on Yamamoto's hair and he bucked into his mouth once more. He wanted to come but he didn't want to be done with this sensation just yet, the jolts of electricity firing through his synapses were too much of an addiction to quit.

It was over too soon when Yamamoto took a final dip in his slit with his tongue and licked up Hayato's torso. He braced himself on either side of him, caging him in and Hayato surged up to snatch his bottom lip between his teeth and growled. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he said, grabbing hold of Yamamoto's hair again.

Yamamoto let out a moan that sounded like a contented whine and smashed his lips on to Hayato's. The kiss was rough and Yamamoto wrapped a hand around both their cocks and stroked, splaying his fingers down the length and pressing in firmly for better pressure.

Hayato's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he panted, lost in a bout of ecstasy. He moved his hand from Yamamoto's hair and gripped his biceps, digging his blunt fingernails into the flesh. He felt the heat intensify and he was close to losing it. Determined to prolong the sensation, he made an instant decision and used as much strength as he could muster to push Yamamoto back.

Yamamoto stopped and looked down at Hayato, brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you okay?"

Hayato felt his heart beat just a little slower and he began to calm himself down. He looked up at Yamamoto and chewed his lip. "I want to try something."

Yamamoto leaned back on to his heels and looked at Hayato quizzically. "Okay."

Hayato shifted into a full sitting position and pushed Yamamoto down on the opposite end of the bed and began kissing him, starting with his lips down to his chin where he licked over the fresh scar. Yamamoto's hands slid up his back and into his hair as he kissed further down, biting and sucking hard on his collarbone. He pinched the skin firmly between his teeth. When Yamamoto hissed, Hayato looked up and smirked. "That's for the hickey you left on me last week."

Yamamoto returned his smirk with a dark one of his own and said, "Mm, that's because I wanted everyone to know Gokudera belongs to me."

Normally this kind of confession, this kind of _possessiveness _would have Hayato running in the opposite direction, fast and far away. But caught up in the moment, letting unfounded emotions take control, Hayato couldn't have thought it sounded more seductive and sexy coming from that serious side of Yamamoto.

Reaching up to pull on Yamamoto's hair, Hayato let out a carnal growl and crushed their lips together, roughly and clacking teeth. "Now you belong to me," he snarled and worked his way down Yamamoto's chest, leaving teeth marks and bruises on his dark skin. Moaning, Yamamoto arched his back and clutched Hayato's hair at the roots as he pinched and sucked hard on each erect nipple. He continued down his torso until he got to his abdomen where he dragged down Yamamoto's boxers and grabbed hold of his cock.

He glanced up at Yamamoto and held his dazed and hazy gaze. "Hey, baseball freak... can I do this?" He wet his mouth and took him in, using the flat of his tongue to slide up Yamamoto's shaft.

"Go-Gokudera," Yamamoto choked.

Hayato moved his mouth up and down a few times, his tongue exploring every inch it could reach and he pulled off with a pop.

"Hm?" he mused, cockily raising an eyebrow.

Yamamoto's breath was shallow and he looked at Hayato with lust lidded eyes. "Fuck... fuck _yes,_" he panted and Hayato took his dick into his mouth once more.

This is new to him. He's never been a giver unless he's fucking and he couldn't imagine doing this with anyone other than Yamamoto. Surprisingly Yamamoto tastes the way he smells, fresh and earthy and just a little bit salty. It's a good taste, it makes the tastebuds on his tongue explode and that first hint of precum drives him over the edge. He wets his index and middle fingers and presses them in slow, feeling Yamamoto's muscle tighten and suck them a little further. He used an arm to keep Yamamoto from thrusting into his mouth by pressing down on his abdomen while he pushed up into his ass. Hayato tightend the grip of his lips around Yamamoto's cock and sucked hard as he pushed deeper into him, stroking the velvety walls and adding a third finger when Yamamoto was slick and wet.

Yamamoto was pulling at his hair and practically screaming, calling out Hayato's name at least a dozen times. He was begging and Hayato loved the sound of it.

"Goku... I can't... can't take it anymore, please."

Hayato pulled off his cock and looked up at the quivering hot mess before him. His skin was flushed and marked with Hayato's teeth and his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth in an open O while hoarse and raspy moans made their way out.

"Not yet," he said smugly and watched Yamamoto squirm as he fingered his ass. He knew it wouldn't take long for either of them to come and he wanted to enjoy this erotic sight just a little longer.

He stroked and twisted and scissored until he thought Yamamoto couldn't catch a breath.

"'Dera... I'm r-ready... hu-rry up," he wined, writhing and fisting the bed sheets.

"You want me to fuck you now?"

"Yes, _fuck me_. Fuck me hard like you promised," Yamamoto panted.

Hayato smirked and hummed, pleased that he managed to take back control. He stood on his knees and grabbed Yamamoto's thighs, lining himself up against his ass. He let one of Yamamoto's legs rest on his shoulder while the other he wrapped around his waist. "As you wish," he said, licking the side of Yamamoto's leg. He felt Yamamoto tremble and he pushed in slow and withdrew and did it again, drawing out a long groan from Yamamoto. When he could see the painful frustration on Yamamoto's face, he snapped his hips hard and hilted, earning a mild howl from Yamamoto. Hayato stopped to give him time to adjust but Yamamoto pushed down on him and Hayato moved slowly.

"Mm... Yamamoto... Does it feel good?" Hayato asked with a bite to his calf.

"Fuck harder, Hayato. Fuck _harder_."

Hayato thrust into him deep, the sound of his given name resounding off the blood that rushed in his ears and sending ripples of pleasure down his spine. "My name... say it again."

Yamamoto moaned loudly and Hayato gripped his hips, slamming hard into his ass while Yamamoto screamed his name. Hayato dropped his leg off his shoulder and jerked his cock, his hips slapping of Yamamoto's ass.

"Unh, Hayato!" Yamamoto shouted, arching his back and digging his nails into Hayato's biceps as he clenched down hard around his cock and came, spraying his chest and chin. Such a lewd visual made Hayato come apart at the seams and without realizing it he called out _Takeshi _on winded breath as he climaxed. He collapsed on top of Yamamoto's sticky chest and dragged a lazy hand through his damp and sweaty hair. Yamamoto was busy catching his breath, his heart thudding loudly against his rib cage and he kissed Hayato's arm that was planted over his face.

Once he could summon enough energy to move, Hayato eased out of Yamamoto and grabbed his arm, pulling the dead weight back onto the pillows with him. Yamamoto flopped down beside him, still struggling to catch his breath.

"Holy fuck," Hayato murmured, turning over to face Yamamoto. Yamamoto grinned lazily and wrapped an arm around Hayato's waist.

"Mm," Yamamoto hummed tiredly.

"Sleep?"

Yamamoto nodded, leaning in to kiss him. Nothing too extravagant because Hayato knew where those kisses could lead to and he was exhausted. And now that the adrenaline rush was starting to dissipate, the pain in his leg and chest returned.

Yamamoto pulled him in closer until their bodies were flush, closed his eyes and rested his chin on Hayato's shoulder. "Good night, Hayato," he whispered.

Hayato was about to retort and give him shit for using his first name but he decided they both bask in the afterglow and he let Yamamoto have this one. Just this once.

Listening to Yamamoto's soft snores, Hayato's lids began to feel heavy and he lingered with them half shuttered for a minute. And as Hayato drifted off, he couldn't help thinking the way he fell for Yamamoto was similar to the way you fall asleep. Slow at first, but once it hits you it's fast and all once.

He thinks maybe this is just that kind of love his sister keeps telling him about.

* * *

**Author's Note :**

**It was supposed to be fluffy smut but my muses had a different idea. I quite like Hayato better this way. **

**Anyways, i was also going to add the meeting with Tsuyoshi in this chapter but i didn't want to take away from the smut. Hope you enjoyed it, see you next chapter! xo**


	15. Boook I : My Saint : Chapter XV

_**Chapter XV**_

* * *

Hayato felt sunlight beaming down on his cheek and he pulled the blankets over his head. His leg throbbed and when he shifted to ease the pain, he remembered that he wasn't at home or in his own bed. He jolted upright and realized Yamamoto wasn't in bed with him.

"That idiot," Hayato cursed under his breath. He was in someone else's house and he felt extremely awkward just strolling around without even meeting the owner.

Hayato hadn't been awake for more than five min minutes when the door to Yamamoto's room opened and in walked Yamamoto, mug in hand and a big smile on his face. He was dressed in navy track pants and a white tee, glasses on and his hair was it's usual just-fucked mess.

"Morning! Coffee?"

Hayato scowled and Yamamoto laughed, handing the cup to him. "Are you always grouchy in the mornings?"

"Bastard, you just left me here in your room like an idiot. I'm not just gonna go walking out of your room and say 'Oh hey, Yamamoto-san, excuse the intrusion but I banged your son last night and that's why I'm here'," he growled.

Yamamoto flopped down on the bed laughing. "Haha, I'd like to see his reaction to that. He doesn't know _that_ about us, but he knows about Gokudera."

Hayato glared at him. "What do you mean he knows about me? What did you tell him?"

Yamamoto set his glasses on the bedside table and put his head in Hayato's lap. He looked up at him, scratching his cheek with his index finger. "Mm, just that Gokudera is a really great guy and I really like him," he finished with a grin.

Hayato smacked his hand over Yamamoto's face. "Idiot. I can just imagine the sappy shit you must say." He took a sip of his black coffee (no milk, no sugar - he remembered) and Yamamoto grasped his hand in his, kissed his palm and put it over his chest.

Hayato went red in the face and he opened to say something harsh, but instead he just shut it and stared at him for a long minute and wondered how he got from point A to point B. How he went from having so many rules to none, how he ended up in someone's bed instead of his own. How he actually came to _feel _something for someone; this particular guy, no less.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You don't always have to ask me, che. If I wasn't, you'd know about it."

"I never know what Gokudera is thinking... so I just want to be sure."

Hayato sighed. "Where is your dad now?"

"Out on errands."

"Well, I should leave before he gets back then," Hayato said, setting the mug on the bedside table.

"You could shower and get dressed before he gets back and he'd never know you stayed. But you won't leave until I make you breakfast, ne?"

Hayato snorted. "Talking like my wife again?"

"I wouldn't mind," Yamamoto said whimsically, reaching up to twirl a lock of Hayato's hair.

"Ugh, shut up."

Yamamoto laughed.

"Don't you think it'll be a bit obvious? Why would I come here so early in the morning? Why do I have a bag packed with my things here? Etcetera, etcetera... "

Yamamoto haphazardly shrugged. "Nah, my dad will buy it."

Hayato smirked and tugged at a strand of Yamamoto's hair. "Idiocy runs in the family?"

"Haha, so mean."

"Well we need to figure out something before your dad gets here so that means you have to get your giant body off of me."

Yamamoto whined. "But Gokudera's lap is so comfortable. Just stay in bed with me, my dad won't care."

"Yamamoto, I'm not a fucking teenager. We can't just stay in bed all day, I have things to do. Besides, that's not an ideal situation for me, I'm not up for an awkward meet the parent moment." Hayato pulled his hand free from Yamamoto's. "We're not even in a relationship, how do I explain myself to your father?"

Yamamoto frowned. "I thought we established last night... You know, I'm yours, you're mine. Remember?"

Heat spread through Hayato's face and he stuttered, flustered. "T-that was an in the moment slip of the tongue, you bastard. I don't belong to anyone."

Yamamoto's eyes got dark and he lifted himself into a sitting position. He ran his fingers through Hayato's hair and found purchase at the back of his neck, clutching the roots. He tugged hard, pulling Hayato's head back so his neck was taut.

"Yama-!"

He leaned in and bit down on Hayato's throat, following the assault with his tongue and worked his way up to the shell of his ear. "Hayato..." His tone was low and hollow. "You _are_ mine. I won't see you with anyone else." He released his grip on Hayato's hair so that Hayato could face him and he couldn't help but be a little startled at the sudden shift in Yamamoto's demeanor. He stared at him, waiting for Hayato's response; his eyes intensively malicious.

Hayato was speechless, eyes wide and pupils blown. He had a fluttering in the pit of his stomach and his heart was racing, pounding hard against his chest. He didn't want to admit defeat, he didn't want to commit to Yamamoto and a _relationship _and he definitely didn't want to succumb to Yamamoto's more serious side. That wasn't who he was, wasn't his style.

But unfortunately when his hazel eyes, usually bright and bouncing, were narrowed and focused, it made Hayato weak in the knees. When he used such force to grab Hayato's hair and bit down on his throat, it had sent jolts of sharp electric currents down his spine. And when he used that tone, stern and demanding, it sparked an excitement like no other down below. He actually _l__iked _it, and he was beginning to realize he was a lot more fucked up than he thought because he should be running, he should be _fleeing _from Yamamoto. Except he couldn't do that, he was undoubtedly at this man's mercy.

So for a second, he faltered.

"Y-yeah, o-okay..."

An eerily pleased grin, lopsided and crooked, made it's way across Yamamoto's face. "Yeah what, Hayato?"

He couldn't even focus on the fact that Yamamoto had been using his first name, that Yamamoto had wrapped his hand around the side of his throat and that his thumb was running over his Adam's apple. He couldn't focus because he was reeling from all the blood rushing from his head to his cock and the intense heat pooling in his stomach. It was almost painful, the want - the _lust _he felt was overwhelming and he found his chest was tightening with his lungs constricted.

"Ya-Yama-" He struggled to argue, form the words that his brain was desperately screaming. _Say no. Tell him he's fucking crazy and you're leaving. You don't do crazy, remember? That's why you left Italy._

Yamamoto leaned in close and bit down hard on Hayato's lower lip. He tasted blood and winced and then Yamamoto kissed him gently.

"_Takeshi_. You're going to call me Takeshi now," he said smoothly, his breath hitting Hayato's lips

"N-no, you're fucking -"

Yamamoto pushed him down hard on the bed and loomed over him. "I guess I'll have to teach you in a language you understand, hm?" He reached down and rubbed Hayato's crotch through the bed sheets. "Mm, already so hard. Could it be that you like it like this?"

"Wha... Sh-shut up, bastard."

Yamamoto smirked and carressed him. "Always so difficult, Hayato. So stubborn. Should I show you then, that you're mine?"

Hayato's heart was beating so fast it hurt and he felt stunned, caught like a deer in a flood of headlights and all he could do was look up at Yamamoto's sinister grin and grind his hips up into his hand. Yamamoto leaned in and licked up Hayato's neck and he pulled down the sheets to grab at his flesh.

The skin on skin contact was hot and searing and the sensation ripped through his body, blurring his vision. A gasp and a moan like he's never heard before left his mouth and he slapped a hand over it. _Damn this guy..._

Hayato knew the marks he was leaving would be really visible against his fair skin and somewhere in the back of his mind he was pissed. But every hot bite and lick made him shiver as Yamamoto worked his way down Hayato's body. His hand moved fluidly over his cock and he finally brought Hayato's cock to his lips and he nipped at the head. Hayato's breath caught in his throat and he grabbed on to Yamamoto's hair. No matter how new either he or Yamamoto was at this whole oral thing, it the sensation of Yamamoto's rough tongue swirling around his shaft and his tight lips dragging up and down felt amazing. He couldn't imagine anyone better to do this to him than Yamamoto.

Hayato stifled a moan he knew was going to sound wanton and needy and opted for clutching at Yamamoto's hair as Yamamoto pushed at the sides of his knees to spread his legs further apart, hooking one arm under his leg and gripping his inner thigh so hard that Hayato knew it was going to leave arched his back, shifting his pelvis up until Yamamoto pushed down hard on his hip bone. He stilled and was completely docile, inviting his impending crash.

Until he felt Yamamoto's finger trace across that forbidden stretch of skin and tease his hole. Hayato froze and drew in a sharp breath, anxiety pooling in his gut. "Wait, Yama -"

Yamamoto looked up at him and smirked, mouth still hot on his cock. He defiantly pushed the tip of his finger in. Hayato panicked and squirmed, but Yamamoto's firm grip on his thigh kept him stationary.

"Yamamoto!" he cried. "Stop, you b-bas-"

Yamamoto stopped and took his mouth away, pushing Hayato down with a firm hand, pinning him, while the other hand gripped his ass. He nudged his finger in further. "I told you to call me Takeshi, didn't I?"

Hayato looked up, eyes wide and gripped his biceps, digging his nails in. "D-don't."

Yamamoto raised a long, inquiring brow and added second finger too quickly. Hayato yelped.

"Don't what, Hayato?"

The sensation was embarrassing and uncomfortable and Hayato wasn't feeling this at all. This was different. The lust he felt had been replaced with panic and anxiety. He liked Yamamoto, he'd be willing to admit that much to himself and the serious side of him no doubt turned him on, but this... this wasn't a good feeling. Using force, using a weakness against him to violate him; to _exploit _him, it didn't feel right at all.

"T-Takeshi... _Stop._" Hayato's voice trembled and he hated the way he sounded. He was disgusted with himself. No other words to describe the way he felt and the pleading, frightening tremor in his voice made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't breathe and was unable to move; too stupefied.

Yamamoto must have noticed too, and it was like a switch went off in his brain- something snapped and brought him back to reality. The menacing look in his eyes disappeared and he looked down at Hayato with surprise. He quickly withdrew his fingers and crushed him into a hug, kissing the side of his jaw and whispered apologies.

"Sorry... I'm so sorry," he murmured, muffled against Hayato's neck. "Gokudera, are you alright?"

The anxiety that had crept up into his chest released its iron grip on his heart and lungs. He let out a long shaky breath and his heart resumed its hammering against his rib cage. He had never felt so panicked in his life but he knew he didn't like it, he knew he never wanted to feel so small and helpless again. And surprisingly, he couldn't bring himself to be angry and oh how he wanted to be. He wanted to punch and kick and beat the living shit out of Yamamoto for making him feel that way. He wanted to loathe him, despise him, _hate _him for reducing him to feeling like a scared little child. He hadn't felt that way since he left his father's castle in Italy. Since he _was _a frightened little child, eight years old and living on the streets of Palermo. But despite wanting to be angry with Yamamoto, he couldn't be. Part of him was furious, but part of him was just wanting to forget it and go home, but the other part was willing to forgive, not wanting to give up the way this man made him feel.

"Gokudera... _please_ say something." Yamamoto's voice was laced with concern, a little shrill with panic and Hayato wondered if he felt the same way he had felt just moments before.

"Ba...bastard," Hayato muttered, still trying to compose himself. "Don't _ever _do that again, or I'll kill you."

Yamamoto pushed himself up and brushed a strand of hair from Hayato's face. Hayato bore into his eyes, the sunlight that reflected off them made his irises look like hardened amber sap but they were soft and remorseful, pooling with worry. He frowned. "I... I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to hurt Gokudera."

Hayato turned his head and adverted his eyes. "Idiot... you didn't hurt me. You just freaked me out. Don't do it again."

He felt Yamamoto's lips press hard on his cheek. "I won't, I promise."

Hayato snaked his arms around his neck and turned back to face him. "Good," he said and Yamamoto kissed him, gently but passionately and Hayato kissed back.

Yet his mind was racing with incomplete thoughts; conflicting with the way his heart and body felt. Rational battling the irrational, logical clashing against the illogical. It actually hurt his head to think, it wasn't clear or making sense and he just needed some _space._

Yamamoto broke away and rested his forehead against Hayato's. "I... I think I need to go for a jog, I need to clear my head."

_You and me both, you crazy fuck._

_Yeah, but you actually like the crazy, don't you? Who's fucked up more?_

Hayato couldn't help but scoff and knock Yamamoto against the side of his head. To prove his point not yet made, his skull made a hollow echoing sound. "There's nothing but air in there anyways, baseball freak."

"Haha, always so cruel... Will you stay and wait for me? I really want to cook for you when I get back."

"Yeah, sure," he lied. Hayato knew he was going to get the fuck out of there the second Yamamoto left. Despite his _feelings,_ Hayato is still a very logical man and everything about the prior situation was telling him to hightail out of this place and stay far away until he could sort his shit out. The last thing he wanted to do was become a victim of Yamamoto's apparent multiple personality disorder.

"Okay... I'll be back soon so go shower before my dad gets back."

"I will," Hayato answered as Yamamoto gave him a quick peck on the lips and climbed off of him. He sat up and gathered the bed sheets to his waist, feeling a little vulnerable and uncomfortable under Yamamoto's gaze.

"See you soon," Yamamoto said, grabbing his glasses and kissing Hayato's forehead. He grinned and left the bedroom.

Despite the aching throb in his leg and chest, once Yamamoto left the bedroom he scrambled off the bed and hurriedly got dressed, pulling his messy bed hair into a tail. He searched the room and found his gym bag of belongings and his crutches. He slung the bag over his shoulder and leaned on one crutch, figuring two would be a little awkward to walk with because of the bulk from his gym bag.

He left the room and made his way to the wooden doors that separated the house from the restaurant. He found his shoes and put them on and just as he stood, the doors to the house slid open.

Hayato's heart leapt into his throat and he froze. He was now standing face to face with Yamamoto's father.

He looked just as surprised as Hayato was, in a white chef's coat and apron and a white handkerchief tied around his head, holding the mass of black hair back. Yamamoto looked a lot like his father, except his father lacked the tanned skin and hazel eyes.

"Oh! You must be Gokudera-kun! Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, Takeshi's old man." When he smiled, it was Yamamoto's; wide and bright, reaching his eyes. Hayato had been about to bow and introduce himself when Tsuyoshi held out his hand for him to shake.

"Western culture, right?"

Hayato let out a short, nervous laugh and shook his hand. "Ha, yeah... I'm Gokudera Hayato, detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. Pleasure to meet you, sir."

Tsuyoshi laughed. "No formalities, c'mon. You can just call me Tsuyoshi."

"O-okay."

"Come in, have a seat at the bar. Can I get you something?"

"Uh, no... thank you. I was just on my way out."

"Nonsense. Takeshi told me you might be staying here for a little bit while your injury healed. Speaking of, is he home?"

_That bastard... already had something like this planned. And why the fuck didn't he tell me that he had already told his dad about me being here? _

"No, he's out on a run," Hayato said, hobbling into the restaurant. He rested the crutch against the wall and set the bag down on the floor beside it. He lifted himself up on a stool and watched Tsuyoshi move behind the bar.

"Ah, I see. That's good, he hasn't done that in a while."

Hayato stayed silent.

"So," Tsuyoshi began, moving things around. "How long have you been on the force?"

Hayato cleared his throat. "Eight years, four as a detective."

"Ah, very good. That Sawada Tsunayoshi is doing a great job at cleaning this place up, huh. Too bad the convictions never seem to stick."

"I agree, but the Ten- uh, my _boss_ tries his very best. He's a great man and works exceptionally hard at his job."

Tsuyoshi nodded. "Mhm, the man has great resolve."

"Yes, he does."

"Tea?"

"Uh.. sure, thank you."

Tsuyoshi busied himself preparing the tea while Hayato focused in on the counter top not feeling quite as awkward as he had anticipated, but he knew that it was inevitable.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so, but your hair is quite unique. I've never seen anyone with that remarkable colour," Tsuyoshi commented, his back to Hayato.

Hayato felt the shells of his ears burn. "T-thanks."

"So you're Italian, huh? From Italy, yet you speak fluent Japanese. Though I can still hear a bit of an Italian accent. Do you speak your native tongue often?"

"I am Italian, but I'm also a quarter Japanese," Hayato said, looking over as Tsuyoshi put on the kettle. "And occasionally, I do." Though he only really cursed in Italian and now that his sister was back, he spoke to her in Italian except for that one time Yamamoto had been there. Their father insisted they learn several different languages when they were younger, including English, French and Russian. Languages of the mafia, his father had told them.

"Takeshi tells me you've been in Namimori since you were fourteen. Did you move here with family?"

Hayato was beginning to feel like he was under the typical parental third degree. It was starting to get a little too personal for his liking. Hoping that Tsuyoshi would get the point, Hayato hesitantly cleared his throat and answered, "No, I came alone." and didn't elaborate.

The shrill shriek of the kettle interruped their conversation and Hayato was glad for that but it didn't last long. "So your family is back in Italy then?"

"Yes."

Tsuyoshi handed him a piping hot mug and Hayato wrapped his hands around it. "Thank you."

Tsuyoshi looked at him and grinned. "Anything for a guest, Gokudera-kun."

Hayato smiled back and fell silent once more.

"You know... I'm really glad that Takeshi has met you."

The words echoed between Hayato's ears. "Hm?" he asked with surprise. Here it comes, the dreaded conversation.

Tsuyoshi looked over at him and smiled. "He was really depressed, has been for a while. Since his mother died, I guess. But the last few weeks he's been really happy, and I know you have something to do with it, Gokudera-kun."

Hayato smiled awkwardly. "Is that so?" he mused. He couldn't imagine that guy being depressed, although he did have a very different aide to him. Hayato wondered if his father knew about that side of him.

"Yes, I believe so. He's happier, and he talks a lot about you. You've become... his saviour."

Hayato stilled with the tea mug part way to his lips. His face burned and his blood pounded in his ears. What did you say to that? Hayato didn't know. He had never been called someone's saviour before. Not in all the years of him being an officer or any time prior. Many other things, but never this.

"He really likes you, Gokudera-kun. And I want to say thank you, for being such a good friend to my son. I'm glad he has someone like you in his life. Maybe now he can move on."

Hayato was definitely speechless. Tsuyoshi's eyes were honest and kind as was the smile on his face. But then he broke into laughter.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I must have made you uncomfortable, huh. Here, let me make you something to eat. What do you like?"

Hayato was about to tell him that he wasn't hungry when Yamamoto burst through the door.

"Ah, I'm home! That was great!"

Hayato whipped his head around and Yamamoto stood, panting with beads of sweat glistening on his temples. He pulled his glasses out of his pants pocket and shoved them on his face, pushing them up on the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

"Gokudera, I see you've met my old man," he said with a wide grin.

"Yeah."

"Gokudera-kun is a fine man, Takeshi. I can see what you like about him."

Hayato couldn't see, considering he never really said much of anything.

Yamamoto walked over to him and draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his chest. "Haha, look he's blushing. Gokudera doesn't take compliments very well, dad."

Hayato felt so embarrassed, he wanted to die. How long were they going to talk about him like he wasn't in the room?

"Aha, don't be so modest, Gokudera-kun. Anyone who works hard to clean up this city and can make my Takeshi smile again is a good man in my books."

_Kill me now. Somebody kill me please. I'm surrounded by idiots._

Hayato tried to put some space between himself and Yamamoto but Yamamoto held him close, _too close_, and curled his fingers into his hair. Yamamoto's father was either not surprised by the gesture and closeness that shouldn't be shared by two men or he was more of an idiot than Hayato thought. Not that he really thought Tsuyoshi was an idiot, he was just hoping to have someone on his side to fight for his beliefs in personal space and public displays of affection. _Especially _between two guys.

Tsuyoshi looked at the both of them and cleared his throat. "Well, I have to go and prepare for the kendo class. Takeshi, I'll call for you in a little while."

_Don't leave me alone with this psycho, old man! _

"Haha, okay dad. I'll be there after I've had my shower."

Tsuyoshi took off his apron and hung it up behind the counter. He waved a hand at them as he left through the other side of the restaurant. "No rush, Takeshi. Take care of my son, Gokudera-kun!" he called.

If Hayato had to guess, the old man was definitely setting him up. That bastard.

"Haha, I hope that wasn't too weird. Sorry I wasn't back in time," Yamamoto said, releasing him.

Hayato stared into his tea mug. "It's fine," he said. "But I should really go home. I've got a lot of work to do."

Yamamoto pulled up a stool and sat in front of Hayato who sat sideways on his own chair. He put a leg on the bottom of the stool, in between Hayato's. "You're not going to work on that case still, are you?" He looked at him with worried eyes.

"Of course I am," Hayato spat. "There's a serial killer on the loose and I can't expect everyone else to figure him out!"

Yamamoto reached out and cupped Hayato's cheek. "But... you were shot, you could have died. And don't you listen to your boss? What if they revoke your badge?"

"Che," Hayato hissed, turning his fave away from Yamamoto's hand. "My boss is under the influence of a fucking sly bastard. Something isn't right about him. I have to figure it out before he does something."

Yamamoto raised his eyebrows. "Who? Who is this guy?"

"Rokudo Mukuro," Hayato growled through clenched teeth. Even saying his name made him furious. "He's a bureau agent from Tokyo brought in on this case. He's a fucking slippery bastard. He was having me followed. He told the Tenth about me and you and convinced him to take me off the case. He's up to something. I _know _it."

Yamamoto looked at him for a long time. Finally he grabbed Hayato's hands in his and squeezed. "Will you promise to be careful?"

Hayato scoffed. "I don't make promises I can't keep, idiot."

Yamamoto laughed halfheartedly. "Yeah, didn't think you would. Let me help you then?"

Hayato eyed him incredulously. "No. Absolutely not. It's too dangerous and you'll just slow me down."

"Is Gokudera worried about me?"

"Ha! As if. I don't need your dead body adding to the pile of others following me. Especially after your father tells me I'm your saviour," Hayato said mockingly, rolling his eyes.

Yamamoto's smile spread so wide, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "He said that?"

"Yeah, he's an idiot like you,"

Yamamoto leaned in close and pressed his lips on Hayato's. They were warm and soft, and Hayato felt himself melting. "You are my saviour," he whispered against them.

Hayato felt that flutter return to his stomach and he wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's neck, cupping the back of his head in his hands and kissed him deeply. Fuck inhibitions, this felt too good to not give in to.

When Yamamoto broke away he grinned devilishly. "Shower?"

"What? No, your dad is here! Are you crazy?"

"He's busy. C'mon, we'll reserve water this way." He grinned wide.

"You're an idiot."

"Hm? What kind of idiot?" Yamamoto asked, teasingly nipping at Hayato's lip.

"A very sexy idiot," Hayato growled, closing his mouth over Yamamoto's.

"Yeah? I guess that's a good thing?"

"Mhm." Hayato ran his tongue along the seam of Yamamoto's lip. "A very convincing idiot too."

Yamamoto chuckled. "So, shower then?"

"Mhm."

Yamamoto stood and pulled Hayato up with him, crushing him tightly against his chest and locked their lips. They stumbled their way through the house, shedding their clothes along the way. They crashed into the bathroom and Hayato felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen and blood to his brain.

Yamamoto pulled away to turn on the shower head and they made their way into the spray of hot water, and it dispersed furiously off his back when Hayato pushed him against the wall. His hands mapped Yamamoto's body, caressing his pecks, ghosting over his beveled abdomen and down to his cock where he took it in his hand with a firm grip and started pumping. Yamamoto hit his head off the tile and groaned, fisting clumps of Hayato's wet hair.

Hayato moved down his body and fell to his knees, slipping his mouth over his cock. He moaned and pushed Hayato's head down, using his hair like handlebars to guide him. Hayato pushed his hips back to keep him from thrusting into his mouth as the water pelted his head and face.

He ran his hand down Yamamoto's thigh and under, cupping his ass cheek before sliding two fingers in. Yamamoto cried out at the intrusion but Hayato was gentle, doing enough to just prepare him before his slid his mouth off Yamamoto's cock and stood. He pulled Hayato into a needy kiss and when Hayato was satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and turned Yamamoto over. He bent over and braced himself against the tiled wall while Hayato lined up against him, pushing in slow and tentatively. His cock went in smooth and with ease, already slick with the water that streamed down Yamamoto's spine to his tail bone in rivets. He groaned with each inch he moved in, Yamamoto's tight muscle clenching hard and squeezing his dick.

Hayato ran his hand up Yamamoto's back and he gripped his shoulder, nudging in further. "Relax, Takeshi," he coaxed and Hayato felt a little release in the pressure around his cock and he finally thrust in all the way. He heard Yamamoto whine and he began to move, his rhythm slow and steady. Hayato dropped his hand from his shoulder to his hip and gripped them both as he rocked up into Yamamoto's tight ass. The water felt tranquil on his skin, the heat from it matching the fire burning in his groin. He reached around and grabbed Yamamoto's straining cock and twisted his wrist up in long, steady strokes.

Yamamoto called out his name, panting and moaning and telling him how good it felt to have him inside him. Hayato barely heard these over the rushing sound of the shower water and his heart pounding in his ears. Hayato thrust harder and faster and he hit that spot that made Yamamoto scream, "Aah, there!" So Hayato fucked him deeper; in quick and sharp thrusts, his hips slapping hard against Yamamoto's ass. He called him by name and reminded him how good it felt to be inside _him,_ so hot and tight.

It didn't take long for Yamamoto to come and when he did, Hayato ran a hand up his chest and over his throat, splaying his fingers over his jaw and chin. Yamamoto bent his head down and coaxed two fingers into his mouth with his tongue and sucked them for a while. He moaned hard when Hayato hit his prostate again, and his fingers dropped from his mouth. Hayato let them linger on his lips.

"Come inside me, Hayato," he groaned. "Fuck me _hard _and come."

And the weightless sensation washed over him again as he rammed in hard just a few more times before he came apart, reeling as his climax imploded and blurred his vision. "F-fuck... Takeshi."

He teetered and nearly fell back but he dropped his hand quickly to Yamamoto's hip and dug his fingers in, gripping both hips tightly. A combination of his crash and the steam from the shower had him feeling lightheaded and seeing stars. As his adrenaline ceased but the dizziness remained, jolts of sharp searing pain shot up his injured leg and he wasn't able to steady himself. Yamamoto turned and caught him before he fell back, bracing himself with an iron grip on the ledge of the tub. He eased Hayato down into a sitting position and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Gokudera? Gokudera, are you alright?"

Hayato had to make sure the room stopped spinning before he opened his mouth to speak because now he was pretty sure the heat was getting to him and he felt nauseous. He nodded slowly, trying to draw in deep breaths but all that entered his lungs was hot air.

"Okay, hold on. I'm gonna wash your hair and we'll get out, okay?"

Hayato nodded again and before he knew it there were long fingers massaging his scalp and the scent of fresh, invigorating soap that Yamamoto always smelled like. The kneading on his scalp helped relax him a bit but the nausea didn't pass, even when Yamamoto adjusted the temperature of the water to lukewarm and rinsed off his hair and body. His hands left him and Hayato tried to steady his breathing. He kept his eyes shut and sucked in the damp air and it did nothing for his lungs. Then the water shut off and hands were back on him again, this time cupping his face.

"Hayato, I'm going to take you to bed. You need to rest a little, okay?"

Hayato didn't argue, he just nodded. The pain in his leg was unbearable and he could feel the tightening of his calf muscles, threatening a cramp.

"I'm gonna try lifting you up. Put all your weight on me, okay?"

Hayato nodded and he felt Yamamoto's strong arms hook under his and he pushed himself up using all the strength he could muster in his left leg. Yamamoto practically carried him out of the tub and to his bedroom and had Hayato not been in such immense pain, he'd be mortified that he was haphazardly carried and naked through a stranger's house and put to bed by another man.

The cold air shocked his skin, dripping wet still from the shower. He began to shiver uncontrollably and Yamamoto slipped under the sheets and wrapped his body around Hayato's. He kissed the edge of his shoulder.

"Hayato, do you need anything? Water? Tea? More blankets?" asked Yamamoto worriedly.

The nausea began to subside and Hayato felt himself relaxing, despite the chill he now felt causing his body to wrack with shudders. Though the heat Yamamoto's body was slowly thawing him out, his warmth starting to envelope him and sleep began to overtake him. He pressed into Yamamoto and Yamamoto's arms held him tighter and he felt himself drifting off but before he did, he answered.

"No... all I need is you."

* * *

**Author's Note :**

I can't stop the fluff and smut between these guys, haaalp. I need to get back to the plot of the story xD

But I'm sure none of you mind, ne?

Thanks to my gorgeous waifu for her help with this chapter, your ideas are amazing and so are your break downs. I love you! xox Thanks to Nico (my adoptive daughter xD ) and Bernie (the evil cutie) who help me with my meltdowns! You guys are super awesome.

And lastly, thanks to all my 8059 girls (Haya-chan and Lo-chan) and everyone else following this story. You are all amazing xo.


	16. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XVI

_**Chapter XVI**_

* * *

"So, Hayato... I've been thinking... "

"Stop the presses," Hayato muttered with an eye roll.

"Haha, I get it! It's because I'm a journalist, isn't it?"

Hayato looked over at Yamamoto, who sat in the driver's seat of his car and smirked. "Nope, you're just stupid."

Yamamoto laughed. "Okay, but seriously, I've been thinking."

"Alright... As dangerous as that sounds, I'll hear you out."

"Haha, stop interrupting me so I can tell you!"

"Sorry, you make it too easy," Hayato said, laughing.

They locked eyes for a minute before Hayato realized he'd been laughing. He clamped his mouth shut and turned to look out the car window, heat creeping across his cheeks. They had just turned onto his street, the pools of amber glow from the street lamps still lighting the road. It was early morning the following day and Yamamoto needed to work and Hayato really wanted to go home, even if Bianchi was there to torture him.

"I can feel your eyes burning a hole through my flesh," Hayato commented. "What are you staring at?"

"Haha... I was just thinking I really like it when Gokudera laughs. He has a great smile and looks even more beautiful when he's happy."

"Tch... you always have to say weird things and I really hate it," he grumbled.

Yamamoto squeezed his thigh and laughed. "You're just not used to it. I like Gokudera and I will tell him how I feel, always."

Hayato let out a sigh. "There's no point in convincing an idiot."

"Haha, right. There isn't. So just suck it up and get used to it already. Let me spoil you."

"Che! I'm not some fucking princess that needs pampering, you bastard. Ugh, just stop talking already, you're so embarrassing."

The heat in his face burned his skin and his heart raced. It was too much, too much for him to _ever _get used to. Hayato knew that he wasn't probably ever going to commit to this person, he didn't commit to anyone that could potentially hurt him. The only person had been Tsuna, and he committed to him for a whole different reason.

He had allowed Yamamoto to think they were in some kind of relationship, though Hayato would never put a label on it except to say that it is an extensive one night stand and nothing more. He liked the sex, he couldn't deny that he got some guilty pleasure out of the carnal way Yamamoto could go dark and serious, cold and possessive. It was crazy_, he _was crazy but Hayato was beginning to think that he was really fucked up too. Had it not been for the jarring realization that he was about to lose total control and let someone touch him in a way he would have nothing of, he probably would have completely succumbed to Yamamoto and that didn't bode well with him.

Suffice it to say that he was conflicted and that didn't bode well with him either.

They pulled up to his house and Hayato grasped Yamamoto's hand and squeezed. "Oi, weren't you going to tell me something, or did you forget?"

Yamamoto put his car in park and took off his seatbelt to face him. "Yeah, actually I did, haha. I got distracted by Gokudera's cute laugh."

"Get to the point, bastard."

"Haha, okay okay. This Rokudo Mukuro guy, you said there's something fishy about him, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, you were suspended so you can't learn anything else about the case of have access to police files, right?"

"Yes, idiot," Hayato hissed, beginning to get annoyed. He took so long to explain things. "Get to the point."

"Well, I'm a reporter. I have access to a lot of contacts with good information. I can help you with the case, Hayato. I can get as much information as you need."

Hayato worked his jaw, chewed his bottom lip and considered the suggestion for a moment. He didn't want to get Yamamoto involved but it was the logical choice. He would be in need of valuable information and he himself wouldn't be able to get at it, so using Yamamoto would be the next best thing.

"What could you possibly get that I wouldn't already know? The department won't leak important details to the press."

"I remembered this morning I have a friend from middle school, Irie Shōichi, that is awesome with all that computer stuff. He can hack into the bureau's thingy and find information on Rokudo Mukuro for you. Can I at least help with that?"

Hayato chose to disregard Yamamoto's lack of intelligent vocabulary. "That is probably the most brilliant thing I've heard you say in all the time I've known you," Hayato said, feeling a little excited. "Don't take that as a compliment, by the way."

"Haha, really? You'll let me help then?" Yamamoto's face lit up.

"Yeah, okay. But _only _with the information. We have to be careful about this."

Yamamoto nodded.

"Alright then, I'm going to buy a disposable cell later and give you the number. Call me when you get something. From a pay phone, not from your cell. I don't want to leave any traces or chance the phones being bugged."

Yamamoto whistled. "Gokudera sure is paranoid."

"Idiot!" Hayato growled. "Of course I am! This is some serious shit, so take it seriously okay?!"

Yamamoto raised his hands in defense and let out a laugh. "I will, I will!"

"Good. I'm going inside now." Hayato moved to open the car door.

"'Dera wait- I don't think you should be running around and tiring yourself out. You had a fever yesterday and your leg is all messed up. Let me take care of you."

Yesterday morning, after Hayato had the most perplexing and somewhat terrifying moment of his life; after the conversation with Tsuyoshi and ending the really messed up, strangely odd and kind of eventful morning with the most amazing, mind numbing shower sex he's ever had (the only shower sex he's ever had, there's a first time for everything and apparently he's chosen to share them with the multiple personalities of Yamamoto Takeshi), he had gotten a fever but Hayato seemed to be fine now.

Yamamoto had stayed with him, annoyingly tending to him like a mother hen. It pissed him off but he couldn't deny he enjoyed the attention but only because it was from that man. He didn't see that dark side of Yamamoto again that day, though he didn't see much if anything because he slept a lot. But every time he opened his eyes, Yamamoto was there. Hugging into him or bringing him soup and water and tea or stroking his hair and humming. His fingers had felt good massaging his scalp and tracing lines gently on his face.

Hayato had never experienced such gestures. He thought of Yamamoto running his fingers through his hair and humming softly in his ear was something akin to a mother's touch when their child was ill. It made him yearn for a mother that he had long since grieved the loss of yet Hayato had closed his eyes and reveled in that moment. He could feel something changing inside him, and no he didn't quite like it, he didn't want to accept it because the last time he had opened his heart and loved, the last time he was truly happy was when his mother was alive and he had felt all the love in the world; the only love he'd ever need coming from that one angelic person that taught him to play the piano. Often left alone and never feeling the love a child should feel from a parent, Hayato had held this woman's affection very close to his heart because he could _feel_ her love in every fiber of his being.

And now, Hayato had thought, maybe he had found that same feeling in someone else. Not the same kind of love, but something very similar. A feeling that warmed him, spread out through every part of him and filled him up. Filled up all the little lonely bits that still lingered within, despite his attempts of trying to feel whole. Despite the façade he had on every moment of every day so that he wouldn't have to feel empty or vulnerable. So he didn't have to feel like eight year old Luciano Filippi.

Still, he couldn't just let Yamamoto have all of him just yet. He was still a smart and calculated man, he was still suspicious and guarded and hard around the edges; the product of being reared on the back alley streets of Palermo where he was chewed up and spit back out by every family that rejected him for who he was only to make him stronger. To make him part of who the man he was today.

Thus, he was still conflicted and it really, _really _didn't sit well with him at all. His growing impatience threatened an explosion of anger directed at the reporter for making him feel this way.

Now that he wasn't ill, he had a clearer mind which made it easier to process the logic away from the feelings and Yamamoto's preening was starting to get on his nerves.

"I will be _fine,_" he said through gritted teeth. "And will you stop calling me that?"

Yamamoto frowned and furrowed his brow. "I'm just worried about you."

"You worry an awful lot for someone who shouldn't think much," Hayato rebuked sourly. "You might hurt yourself."

Yamamoto frowned deeper. "You nearly fainted yesterday and spent the whole day in bed. Should you go to a doctor? Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?"

Hayato sighed and put his head in his hands. "Listen, you bastard. I can take care of my fucking self. You need to stop being so fucking clingy, it's _suffocating_," he hissed, emphasizing by grasping his chest. "Ugh."

Yamamoto fell silent. "Okay," he finally said quietly. He leaned towards Hayato and cupped his cheek in an attempt to bring his face closer to his.

Hayato jerked back instantly and growled. "D-don't, you idiot! There are people watching us! It's bad enough you're dropping me off! I should have taken a cab..."

"'Dera... "

"Don't call me that."

"When will I see you again? I've spent all my time with Gokudera lately and I won't know what to do with myself."

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Heat flared through his face once more and he suppressed the urge to wrap his hands around Yamamoto's neck and shake him violently. Hadn't they just been through this whole clingy equals suffocation conversation?

Yamamoto frowned and looked at Hayato with sad, pleading eyes. That same look that had Hayato convinced Yamamoto was part canine, stupidly giddy and over excited when given attention then pouting and pawing with their tails between their legs when they had been scolded for doing something wrong. It always struck a painful chord in his heartstrings whenever he saw it but he refused to believe that it had anything to do with that idiot. If he kept telling himself it was because he thought of him as a dumb and helpless animal, it'd eventually have reason, right?

Sighing exasperatingly, Hayato reached over and poked him in the corner of his mouth. Yamamoto stilled and Hayato traced his finger over his lips and down to the bottom of his chin. "Don't make that face, it doesn't suit you." He leaned over and pressed his lips to Yamamoto's, quickly because he knew that for him just a peck wouldn't be good enough. Kissing Yamamoto was like the first line of blow you snorted, the first dose of heroin injected into your blood stream... once you felt that tingling and surging rush course through your veins and into your brain, you couldn't get enough. No matter the amount, Hayato felt like he had to keep chasing that high he got from those lips and that was never a good thing. Too much of something is _never _a good thing. Because enough was never enough for Hayato.

Yamamoto whined when his lips left too soon and Hayato gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the flutter dissipate and his heart slow.

"I'll call you soon. You have to go to work and act normal. Don't talk to anyone you don't know, especially about me or the case. Got it?"

Yamamoto nodded, forcing a half smile. "Be careful, okay?"

"You too." Hayato gave his hand one more squeeze, wanting to lean in again and smash his lips against those smooth and full lips that belonged to the most alluring man he's ever met but he couldn't, for several reasons more than just the obvious ones. Instead, he opened the car door and struggled to get out but he did it on his own, warning Yamamoto before hand not to help. He grabbed his crutches and bag from the back seat and looked into the rearview mirror where he met Yamamoto's worried gaze.

"I'll be okay," he assured and shut the door without saying goodbye or looking back.

It was a short walk to his front door and once he got to it he heard Yamamoto drive away. He felt an uneasiness that sat heavily in his stomach, tense and anxious and he wasn't sure if it was because he was about to face Bianchi or if something about Yamamoto just didn't seem right. He wasn't sure if it were his sudden silence and somber mood or something else entirely but there was definitely something other than worry he had seen in those eyes. A look he hadn't seen before.

He opened his door and hobbled through the foyer. When he walked into his living room he was stopped dead in his tracks.

Bianchi sat on his couch in a long and sleeveless plum coloured dress, hair falling in curls over her shoulders. She was leaned back against the sofa, magazine in hand while a long leg draped over the other, pale skin revealed by the thigh high slit in her dress. One black stiletto rolled leisurely in circular motions and the other was planted firmly into a man's back.

"S-sis! What the hell?!"

The man didn't move and Hayato couldn't see who it was under her foot. She didn't look up from her magazine. "Oh, you're home, selfish brother of mine."

"Who the fuck is that?! And wait, what? How am I selfish?"

"You left your dear sister to worry about you. You should be ashamed of yourself," she said coldly, flipping through the magazine.

Hayato inched closer into his living room, ignoring her chiding. He sort of half gasped, half choked when he saw the all too familiar mass of dark brown hair connected to an all too familiar body under his sister's heeled foot. "Sha... Shamal! What the hell, Bianchi?!"

"You're lucky this isn't that Yamamoto Takeshi," she remarked sourly, tossing her magazine to the side. "How rude of he, coming into our home-"

"_My _home," Hayato angrily corrected.

"And to not tell me what happened or where you were and then told me I couldn't see you!"

Hayato's stomach had dropped a bit when he thought of Yamamoto being the one prone under his sister's foot instead of his perverted uncle. "I told him not to say anything to you. He was only supposed to come here and get clothes and I _know _he wasn't as rude as you're making him out to be. But in all seriousness, is Yamamoto _really _the issue here? Because I think you need to tell me what the _f__uck _Shamal is doing under your foot and more importantly, what he's doing here - in my house. In _Japan._"

"He came here to bother us," she said simply.

Hayato snorted. "I'm sure there's a better reason than that. What did you do to him?"

Bianchi shrugged and crossing her arms over her chest, cupping her elbows. "I gave him a tranquilizer. He wouldn't stop coming on to me, the bastard. You'd think he would have learned by now. He'll be lucid in a few minutes or so."

Hayato felt a little relief though he was beyond pissed off and he made his way into the living room to sit down in his leather armchair.

"Hayato, you had me really frightened. Why didn't you at least call me to tell me you were okay? And what kind of stuff have you gotten yourself into?"

Hayato settled into the armchair, pulled out a fresh pack and lit a cigarette. He took a drag and savored the smoke before letting it out in a long exhale. It had been almost three weeks since he had a cigarette and by all means, he should quit. Except smoking is one of the few things Hayato enjoys and during his stay in the hospital, he hadn't been able to smoke at all and Yamamoto refused to let him smoke in the car and he wasn't disrespectful enough to do it in his father's home. Finally being in the comfort of his own home, in his favorite chair, it seemed the best time to light one up.

"It was just a shooting. Cops get shot occasionally in the line of duty, you know," he said, taking another drag.

"Hayato, I've been following the story in the news. You were shot by the yakuza. And the man that shot you is dead."

Hayato looked over at her as she flicked her long wine coloured hair over her shoulder. "So he succumbed to his injuries then... I wasn't informed."

"No, brother. He was _murdered_ in the hospital. The police have told the press nothing of his cause of death so they've concluded that he was killed by his gang to keep him quiet. If they're willing to kill their own member, won't they be coming for you next?"

"I doubt it. Murdered huh... Has that been the only murder so far? Any more word on this Headless Samurai guy?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

"No... I've been removed from the case and suspended after my little run in with the yakuza thugs."

"Did _that guy," _she said it with disgust, "at least take care of you?"

"Yes, he was fine. Annoying but fine. And don't breathe a word of that or him when Shamal wakes up. Not a single word," Hayato stressed.

As if on cue, Shamal stirred under Bianchi's foot. He groaned and murmured something thick and lethargic.

"Bianchi... let the old pervert up," Hayato said, leaning forward to crush the cigarette out in the ashtray.

Bianchi lifted his foot and nudged it under Shamal's body, rolling him haphazardly on his side. He groaned again and blinked, rubbed his eyes and clutched his head.

"What a cruel woman," Shamal muttered.

"Serves you right, you bastard. What the hell are you doing in my house?" Hayato asked peering down at him.

"Oh, it's you brat."

"Well of course it's me, what the fuck. You're in _my _house."

Shamal sat up and groggily rubbed his temples. He looked over at Bianchi who glared at him. "Still beautiful as ever," he commented with a lopsided grin.

"Ugh, you disgust me old man," Bianchi spat, digging her heel into his hand.

Shamal yelped and pulled his hand away, laughing. "Is that anyway to talk to your uncle?"

"Che, you're not even related by blood and if you had been, I'd be asking you, you sick fucking pervert, if that was anyway to talk to your niece. Still, it's disgusting. You've known us since birth." Hayato leered at him, waiting for a snide retort from the doctor.

Shamal was not in fact, related by blood to the siblings like Hayato had stated. He was their god father, true to the name, appointed Guardian to Hayato and Bianchi in their Catholic faith (to which Hayato no longer practices and the only piece of him that recognizes that faith is the rosary he wears around his neck always) and the appointed consigliere to his father.

During the time of Hayato's childhood, his father was the underboss for the Don of the Cappa family. In order to be in such high ranks in this family, one must have the original blood lineage of the Cappa. A _capo famiglia_ or _capo bastone_ cannot be brought in from another famiglia, not without the original family's heritage.

Hayato's father was a Cappa on his mother's side, daughter of the seventh generation underboss. Because she was a woman, she was never expected to take over and but her younger brother did when their father died of an unexpected illness. She married the Cappa Family's right hand, which was Hayato's grandfather, Antonio Filippi. Her brother was later killed by a rival war between families and that left her son, Hayato's father, an open position in the higher ranks. Being raised from the very beginning with prospects of one day becoming part of the family, Hayato's father had a lot of preparation and by the time he took over the position of _capo bastone _for the eighth generation at age seventeen, he had already become one of the most cold and ruthless men to have power in all of Italy's underworld.

Shamal grew up in the mafia too, part of the Cappa Famiglia. His father was a foot soldier and had been close with the Filippi family. They had children around the same age, Hayato's father and Shamal. They grew up together and spent most of their time together, as much time as Hayato's grandfather would allow. While Antonio Filippi was raising a prospect, Shamal's father was less inclined, less devoted to the mafia and when Shamal chose the path of a doctor and _not _the mafia, his father didn't argue. Shamal had already been corrupted by the mafia, found the money and women to be very alluring and despite choosing a different path, he ended up working as an associate to the Cappa Famiglia, a free lance doctor that would never treat a man if the price wasn't right. And that _always _included a woman or two. Or three and four. It made working with Shamal difficult and he was expensive and finicky but he was brilliant and no one could deny that, no one could disregard his skills.

That had changed when Hayato was thirteen and he learned the boss of the Cappa family had passed on, leaving the position for Hayato's father to take over.

His father was a ruthless man, a very strong and powerful underboss who was feared among most families, even within their own. He was greedy and sought out wealth and power and was rewarded when the eighth generation boss had kicked the bucket. Rising to the occasion, many things about the Cappa family had changed, they became more powerful and feared despite the fact that though his father had appointed Shamal his _consigliere. _

Because his before title of just a _sodalto_. Shamal was just a wiseguy, an associate. It was a joke that someone like Hayato's father would appoint a man like Shamal as his right hand, someone who lacked so much responsibility and had absolutely no morals at all. People began to suspect he'd fail as the new Don of the Cappa family, chosing the favoritism of his best friend over what was best for the family, but he proved them wrong. His father's new family had only Shamal as his trusted advisor and though Shamal never wanted to be part of the mafia before, his need for the finer things and the women that came with the title essentially made him agree to the position. The two made an amazing powerhouse together and steadily ruled over the underworld, absorbing any good quality family that wanted to join them and destroying anyone who didn't.

Shamal was a pervert by nature, very slick and suave yet disgusting to an extent that Hayato most certainly despised. Still, when it came down to it, Shamal was a force to be reckoned with when he got serious and had techniques that he created that could kill a man in less than five seconds without the use of a gun or sword. He was effective and dangerous, there was no man like Shamal in the mafia world and that's what earned him respect, despite his nonchalant and disgustingly slimy attitude.

"Hayato, I remember when your prick was no bigger than the tip of my pinky and though I doubt it's grown much bigger than that, you still aren't man enough to talk to me like that, haha. Give me a cigarette."

"I can lace it with some poison, if you'd like, brother. He's already getting on my nerves," Bianchi said, standing up.

Shamal licked his lips and tried to peer under Bianchi's dress as she stood, which earned him a kick to the ribs and a smack to the head, courtesy of both siblings.

"Ow," Shamal whined.

"Oi, watch where those droopy eyes ogle. Don't look at her like that, show some respect. Pervert." Hayato rolled his eyes and handed Shamal a cigarette.

"Oh brother, when you talk like that I get really excited," Bianchi said in her usual seductive tone.

Hayato pointed his fingers that held his newly lit cigarette at Bianchi accusingly. "You show some respect too, asshole. Stop talking like that, I'm your brother and it's gross."

Shamal leaned back against the sofa, still sitting on the floor and lit his cigarette. "You both are just as fucked up as always," he said dejectedly.

Bianchi ignored him and sashayed her way to the kitchen. With her gone, Hayato was hopeful that he could get the doctor to focus long enough to tell him why he was here.

"Shamal, what are you doing here? Haven't I told you not to come here? I don't need people knowing my ties to the mafia and you aren't a quiet presence." He called for Bianchi to make him some coffee. She came back with a sarcastic remark but he heard the sound of rushing water and smelled the intoxicating aroma of fresh ground Columbian coffee as it percolated.

Shamal took a long drag of his cigarette and turned serious. "The Bovino family is after your sister and they're out for blood."

"I know, Bianchi already told me."

"She doesn't know the severity of it yet. There is a large price on her head and your father can't kill the men gunning for her fast enough."

Hayato snorted. "That useless bastard doesn't surprise me."

"Hayato, I know your anger towards your father is still intense, even if it's childish in my opinion, but you _will _respect him in my presence."

Hayato glared at the doctor he thought would always be on his side. He'd hate to admit it, but he had always seen Shamal as a father figure, more so than his old man. It was Shamal who had taught him things; how to use explosives; Shamal that spent his time playing with him when Hayato had no one else. It was Shamal that had saved his life.

After Hayato left home, he was always on the run, never able to stay in one spot for too long for fear of his father's men finding him. He was the prodigious son, heir to the Cappa throne if his father was successful in taking over and he was determined to take Hayato back. It wasn't because he loved him. Let's face it, after his mother was murdered his father was even colder, more distant. _Luciano,_ he would say whenever Hayato would plead for his attention. _Luciano, go away. I can't stand the sight of you. You remind me of all the failures in my life._

Hayato was an embarrassment, small and frail, pale skin with silver hair and had a tell tale almond shape to his eyes. Only slightly, but enough to be noticed by other people that he wasn't full blooded Italian. That he wasn't a full blooded _Cappa_. That he was a bastard child.

His features were prominent and his eyes were bright green and his father's associates used to joke of how Hayato's beauty rivaled his sister's. His father told him how much he hated that Hayato looked like his mother after she died and Hayato never understood why, because he looked nothing like his mother who had long auburn coloured hair and dark brown eyes, round and angry and nothing like his own. And at that time, he never knew why but when he found out who his mother really was, it all made sense.

Hayato's father had wanted him home because he had enough of people laughing about the obviously different and childish pretty boy who ran away from home. It was because Hayato's impudence was shameful and if his father couldn't control his own son, how could he control the Cappa family?

He slept on the streets of Sicily, panhandled for the maybe one meal a day and started fights with any gangs he ran into. This usually left him immobile for weeks at a time to nurse his broken body back to functionality after he got the shit beat out of him. He was a kid with a lot of pent up angst, he couldn't feel anything but anger and the adrenaline rush he got from fighting made him feel good, made him feel _something_.

After two years on the streets, Hayato had already began to make a name for himself, though it wasn't the one he wanted. He eventually became a part of a gang that offered him a thin, flat mattress and left over scraps from the restaurant they used as a cover for their money laundering and weapons business in exchange for his services. These usually entailed thievery and pushing cocaine on the rough corners of downtown Palermo. After proving himself loyal and quite a fierce force to be reckoned with at his young age, Hayato was promoted to shaking down people that owed the gang money and when they didn't pay up, Hayato used the skills Shamal had taught him to blow up buildings and businesses and homes for collateral.

It wasn't long before he was kicked out of that gang though, because though he was good at what he did, his reckless nothing-to-lose behavior and flashy choice of weapon were too much of a liability.

By then he had already earned the name Smokin' Bomb Hayato or sometimes it was Hurricane Bomb Hayato but either or, he had made a name for himself. He also decided he wanted revenge, revenge on his bastard father for what he did to his mother, did to his life.

He was a thin and dirty brat with shaggy silver hair and a real bad temper. People were afraid of him, afraid of his name but it wasn't enough because no mafia family wanted him, not even the bad ones. He was different, an outcast and of obvious Oriental decent. He was too beautifully fair, even when he looked ragged and dirty with knotty silver hair that hung down to his chin in sharp clumps. He didn't _look _like a mobster no matter how hard he tried with his rings and spiked bracelets, ripped and torn jeans with his calf high Doc Martens, or the tangle of chains, thick belts with large buckles or that hard look on his face; that permanent scowl. It was never enough to get rid of his image. The Filippi pretty boy, pianist not mobster, not a full blooded Italian. Not good enough for anyone. He was too out of control, never listened to authority and refused to work with anyone on anything. The mafia families saw him as a threat and a hindrance and eventually started putting hits out on his life.

He had just turned twelve when the first attempt on his life had been made and Hayato barely managed to escape the slew of gunfire in his direction. He was only given that sliver of chance because growing up on the streets and working with dirty gangs that were wannabe mafia had taught him how to be sharply aware of his surroundings. Everything Hayato knew and was capable of he had taught himself and that made him a proud and cocky brat.

He was nearly thirteen when fate had caught up to him and he had been shot fatally. Bleeding to death in a back alley surrounded by used needles, dirty rats and his deathbed being a pile of garbage bags, he vowed that if by some miracle he got to come back as someone else one day, this time he'd do right. This time he'd be loved and not born into a world full of hate and rules and judgment. Where no laws applied. That he would be the one to make sure syndicates like the mafia would never exist so that no one would ever have to grow up the way he did.

He prayed for that miracle and he was answered in the form of a perverted old man, his "uncle" Shamal.

When Hayato awoke he had been surprised that he wasn't back at his father's castle but in a run down apartment on a back alley street deep in Palermo. Shamal had operated, treated him and took care of him, never once telling his father where he was but always reminding Hayato he'd better be grateful because he didn't treat men, especially little brats with a death wish.

Hayato refused to owe anyone anything and he asked Shamal what he could do to repay him. Shamal offered Hayato a place to stay and free meals in exchange for him simply being Shamal's errand boy.

Hesitant to take the charity but couldn't deny that he was tired, so tired of running and this life, he agreed.

Life with Shamal was annoying, annoying enough to sometimes wish he had died back in that alley. He was often kicked out of the apartment when Shamal brought women there, or sometimes Shamal would forget and not care that Hayato was in the same room while he fucked his call girls and prostitutes when he wasn't working for his father. Nights like that Hayato would cover his ears with his hands and curse himself to sleep. Occasionally he'd be woken up by these women trying to undo his belts or tug off his pants, high and drunk and desperate. Some even made it so far as succeeding in removing his pants and sucking him off, or trying to ride him. It was utterly disgusting but Shamal seemed to have no qualms about it. Hayato had lost count of the women that nearly violated him while he slept, lost track of the amount of women Shamal had brought home that year. His last remembered total had been over a hundred and three. And he remembered that Shamal told him that sex was a very powerful thing, a method to use to get what you wanted and that it came in several different forms. That women were bargaining chips, stress relievers (but never stress causers- if you fucked them properly because then they knew their place) or a way to make you feel something even when you didn't want to feel anything. Sex was key; a tool Shamal used to get what he wanted, satisfy his needs and take out his anger and stress.

He told Hayatp he needed to fuck, not fight to get rid of his pain. To feel better about himself. And even though Hayato was mostly disturbed and disgusted by the old man, he idolized Shamal. He was charming, he had finesse and he was suave when he needed to be and Hayato witnessed several times his ability to negotiate through sex, bring these women to their knees (because not all were call girls or prostitutes, some were rival family too) and have them eating out of the palm of his hand.

It made a switch go off in Hayato's mind, but somewhere along the lines it had short fused, because Hayato was sure he never quite got it right. He tried, mostly because he wanted to find some other release for his anger so that he didn't end up with broken bones and welts and bruises. Except nothing worked. The women Shamal brought home did nothing for him except often leave him feeling disgusted with himself. He could never get into it, and nothing came from fucking those women. Except for the realization that women weren't his thing, he needed that adrenaline rush that came from the flight or fight response. He craved the rush he got from the nitroglycerin and gunpowder he had in his explosives, the satisfying crackle of a lit fuse on a stick of dynamite, the resounding explosions that rang in your ears when they finally went off. And finally, he realized he only had one thing on his mind. While most teenage boys would jump at the chance to fuck women older than themselves; drink and do drugs and act like an adult, Hayato wanted one thing.

And that was to kill his father, take over as Don and bring the entire mafia world down with him. Maybe it might have been a bit ambitious for a boy of thirteen, but what cocky little brat didn't have aspirations way too big for their age, especially when Hayato's ego fit the bill.

He became to hate living there but it was tolerable and Hayato never forgot his objective. He was determined to continue to rise up, despite the constant knock downs and gain enough power to take on his father and blow everything he stood for into a crumbling pile of ash at his feet.

Shamal tried to ground him, tried to pop Hayato's egotistical bubble by any means necessary. He supplied Gokudera with cigarettes and alcohol against his better judgment and he would beat the shit out of him when Hayato would return home after doing something life threatening and reckless.

But when he learned that his father was to become Don of the Cappa Famiglia and that Shamal was to become his _consigliere_, all that shattered and left him with no hope. Shamal demanded he go back to his father and become part of the family, where he belonged. Enough with the games and playing mafia, enough with the self destruction and the torment. Hayato had proven himself worthy of his father, his name was well known on the streets. it didn't matter that his feared reputation went hand in hand with his pretty boy reputation because his father would accept him back into the family. All he had to do was go home. Naturally, Hayato refused and when he saw the loyalty Shamal had for his father, Hayato knew there was no way he'd ever be able to go against him. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew and this lifestyle wasn't for him. The mafia wasn't for him. He didn't need to belong here, he was wanted for all the wrong reasons and somewhere in the back of his mind, he held Shamal in high regards and he'd never disrespect him by tarnishing his role as a right hand man. Hayato would never make him choose between his loyalty and himself. Hayato would never shame the man that saved his life and had taught him many things. So he made a decision. It was hard but, determined to never be part of this life he hated and to not stain Shamal's reputation, he left Italy just before his fourteenth birthday.

Now it seemed that since he had become his father's right hand man, Shamal was no longer on Hayato's side. The loyalty that lay there was strong, stronger than most because he wasn't just a right hand man. He was also his father's best friend, childhood best friend and Hayato understood the bond, but it didn't make him feel any less hatred towards the man right now. Didn't make him feel any less betrayed. And yes, Hayato knew that kind if thinking was childish, but it stung nevertheless. People were always discarding him, he should have a thick skin by now but Hayato never really had developed one. He just put on the façade that said he did.

"Che... whatever, Shamal. Just get to the fucking point."

"They found out where she is. They're sending some foot soldiers to Japan as we speak."

Hayato nearly choked on the smoke he had inhaled. "Are... are you fucking kidding me? Shamal, I'm a fucking officer of the _law!_ I can't have mafia goons storming in on my home turf and making a mess of my already fucked up life! Take her back home!"

Shamal sighed. "I can't do that. Your father doesn't want her in the middle of it. He wants you to own up and protect her."

"No," Hayato spat firmly. "No, I can't do that. I _won't _do that. This is my life, I left Italy for that reason. I don't want any part of the mafia, even if it includes Bianchi."

"Ha, you left Italy because you were an insolent brat, bent on getting famous and power hungry and because every family you came in contact with sought out to kill you. You didn't _leave _Italy, you _fled._ You ran like a little bitch, tail between your legs."

Hayato wished his legs worked now, because he'd love to fly off that armchair and punch the stupid doctor for as many times it took to make him feel satisfied. Instead he just clenched his fists and grit his teeth. "Take her home."

"Mhm, knew you were always a pussy."

"If I had my gun right now, I'd shoot you right in that loud mouth of yours, you bastard."

Bianchi came back into the room and set down two cups of coffee on the table in front of them. "What are you guys talking about? Sounds interesting."

"Bianchi, sweetie... I'm not going to drink that," Shamal said with a snort, snubbing out his cigarette.

Bianchi shrugged and bent over so that her bottom was right in Shamal's perverted field if vision. "Suit yourself," she said, taking a sip of Shamal's coffee.

Hayato noticed Shamal's mirth filled eyes glued to her figure and he felt growing rage inside him. He knew Bianchi presented herself that way, she was always provocative but it didn't change the fact that she was his sister and he had no patience for this kind of this right now.

"Sis," he growled. "I don't even want to know why you insist on dressing like that at the crack of dawn but you need to go change and let the men have a talk here."

"Hayato, I'm insulted."

"Yeah, I am too. What's wrong with Bianchi's dress? Oh could it be, you want it a little more revealing? Ah, a little bit shorter then, miss."

Infuriated, Hayato slammed his fist down on the coffee table and glared at them. "Honestly, you two! Do you understand the severity of the situation here? The Bovino are coming to Japan to kill you and you, I'm sure that bastard sent you here to do something about it and the both of you can't do anything except to think about fucking! Is this what the people from Italy do? Go around thinking about fucking all day? You, with your brother complex and _you_ are just a fucking dirty pervert! We've got some serious business to handle and you guys need to stop treating it like a fucking joke!"

"Look, kid-"

Bianchi glared at him furiously. "Hayato, for you to say such things to me about my life with your destructive and provocative secret double life is an insult. At least I was in love with Romeo. Can you say that about the people you sleep with?" she asked coldly, folding her arms across her chest.

Hayato felt a bit of anxiety creep up his chest, it's tendrils threatening to squeeze his heart. "You shut up, my sex life isn't the one being questioned right now."

"I bet that's why you were suspended. They found out you were banging the reporter, isn't that right?" The acid in her tone was none like Hayato had ever heard before. He must have struck some nerve inside her and he needed to diffuse the situation before she outed him in front of his father's right hand man. In front of a _mafia _man, where things like Hayato's sexual preference were extremely frowned upon, sometimes even killed for.

"That's not any of your business," he remarked venomously.

Shamal laughed. "Well, hey, looks like you take after me in more ways than one. You've inherited my sexy hair style, though it looks disgusting on you, but now you have a taste for the promiscuous life. I... I'm almost proud of you, brat."

"Oh he's not promiscuous, he's just stupid. He's been fucking the reporter assigned to his serial case. He even spent the last week with -"

Hayato shot to his feet, ignoring the screaming pain that tore through his leg. "Shut up, Bianchi. Another word and so help me god, I'll be the one to collect the bounty for the price on your head."

Bianchi shut her mouth and glared at him, silently fuming.

"Oh, I'm curious now. What's so special about this reporter? Could it be the little pansy, Hurricane Bomb has found love?" Shamal sang.

Hayato groaned. "Oh go the fuck home already! I've got work to do and you're annoying me!"

"Hayato, we have to figure what to do with the Bovino brats. Your father wants you and I to take care of them," Shamal said seriously, giving up on the prior subject.

Hayato pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shamal, I can't just go around killing people. I am an officer of the _law._ I don't play by the mafia's rules."

"You're also a Filippi. Born into the Cappa Famiglia and it's next successor. You were given orders by your boss," Shamal spat.

Hayato reached forward and swiftly grabbed Shamal's shirt collar. "I'm not a _Filippi. _I'm Hayato Gokudera, detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. I'm not Luciano Filippi of the Cappa Famiglia. I left that person in Italy over ten years ago. And that bastard is _not _my boss. He's dead to me, got it?"

Shamal looked at Bianchi and nodded towards the bedroom. Giving the men a worried look, Bianchi sighed and walked up the hall to the guest bedroom.

Hayato glared at the doctor.

Shamal let out a sigh and pried Hayato's fingers from his shirt. "Stubborn as ever, I see," Shamal said, a noticeable change to his tone.

"Still as much of an asshole as ever," Hayato retorted, releasing him.

He nodded back to the bedroom. "She's still as alluring as ever."

"_Shamal!_" Hayato growled.

"Alright, alright. Such a noisy brat. We need to talk business."

Hayato sat down in the chair and lit another cigarette. He inhaled and exhaled and sighed. "There's nothing to talk about, I'm not getting involved."

Shamal joined him, sitting down on the sofa and lighting his own smoke. "Even if it's for your sister? I know you like to think you're not related to her but the truth is you are and she loves you and you _know_ she wouldn't hesitate to help you if you needed it. Even if it went against her morals."

Hayato snorted. "Bianchi doesn't have morals. And it has nothing to do with family. My life is here, I want no part of Italy. Especially if it has to do with him."

Shamal sighed and fixed his thumbs to the middle of his forehead, resting his elbows on his knees. "Hayato, I know it's difficult for your childish brain to get but family is family. And... I didn't want to have to say this in front of Bianchi but... your father is dying."

"Good, finally karma has caught up to him," Hayato said venomously.

"No, it's not good. There's no one in line to take his place if he dies, he wants you to succeed him. His only son."

"His _bastard _son." Hayato took another drag of his cigarette and began jogging his good leg up and down.

"Think what you want, but he gives a shit about you."

"Right, lying about my birthright and killing my mother is a definite way to show someone you care. Fucking bastard."

"Heh. What a brat."

"Che. I don't care what you think of me."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because your father wants my opinion, he wants me to assess you for the tenth position of the Head of the Cappa Famiglia."

Hayato couldn't hold it back any longer, he let out a sardonic laugh that worked its way into fit. "That... that is fucking absurd and you know it. Me, a mafia _boss?_ I despise that world, I'd never go back."

Shamal shook his head. "You don't have a choice, the family will fall apart if there's no head. It's already started with the rumors of your father's illness. And now with the Bovino being able to get such an advantage. The _Bovino,_ Hayato. They're not as powerful as our family but they possess amazing technology. And they're out for blood. Romeo Di Marco was a prospect, in line -"

Hayato waved his hand dismissively. "I know about Romeo. Bianchi has already filled me in. She says she didn't kill him. Do you believe her?"

Shamal sighed. "As much as I don't want to believe that such a beautiful and seductive creature as your sister could be so lethal and dangerous, the reputation she has for being a black widow is rather troublesome. However... I don't think she did, not this one."

Hayato pursed his lips and nodded slowly in agreement. He took another drag of his cigarette. "I don't have time for this, Shamal. I've got a case that needs solving, a murderer that needs capturing. That is my priority, I only serve _my_ boss."

"Your sister said you were suspended."

"I'm on medical leave," Hayato lied, averting his eyes. "But I can still work. The body count this guy has is five right now, and he doesn't seem like he'll be stopping anytime soon. He's not done. I can't allow him to continue to terrorize my city."

"The Bovino will get in your way, it's better to deal with them as soon as they get here."

"How will they even know where to find me? Were you stupid enough to leave a trail, old man?"

"Heh," Shamal smirked. "As if, you brat. Have some respect. I told you their technologies are advanced. It's no surprise. If you stay here like a sitting duck, you'll be killed."

Hayato rolled his eyes. "As if, you pervert. You think I'd go down so easily? I'm an excellent marksman and effective with explosives. I've been shot several times and have survived but the men who've shot at me haven't been so lucky."

Shamal crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray and scoffed. "What a cocky brat. That's when karma bites you in the ass, you know."

"It's not cockiness, it's being realistic. You should know."

"Ha, the last time I saw you was when you were fourteen and you had come here. You were a punk back then and you're the same kind of punk now, just taller and a little more muscle to you. It's nothing impressive."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone. I'm a cop, not a hitman. Not anymore and I won't be again. That life is behind me and you can't force me to go back."

"They'll kill the people closest to you. Your partner, the boss you hold in such regard... that reporter..."

Hayato fell silent. He had a growing uneasiness clawing at the insides of his stomach, working its way to his heart. He never once thought his past would catch up to him and threaten Tsuna. He would do anything to protect him. And how selfish of him to think that he could have someone he cared about all to himself. How selfish of him to drag Yamamoto into this life, _his _life where the stupidly innocent baseball idiot might get hurt. Might even be killed.

_"You've become... his saviour. He really likes you, Gokudera-kun. Maybe now he can move on."_

Tsuyoshi's words rang clear in his head and something sharp pierced his heart, something metaphorical and unconventional but it hurt as much as any real weapon would. Hayato wasn't perfect by any means, but he was smart. Smart enough to know that this feeling came from knowing the possibility that Yamamoto could be killed and it definitely didn't bode well with him. He had once been a hitman, if he was careful he could do it again. He could take care of the Bovino men the mafia way (because arresting them would do absolutely nothing) and save his sister for the time being, save Tsuna... save Yamamoto.

Which dawned on a whole new perspective for Hayato. One he wasn't quite sure if he liked, but if he was willing to kill these men and risk everything then perhaps he really was a saviour. Not to be confused with the complex, Hayato already had enough of those. But if killing these men meant protecting Yamamoto and his innocence, he'd do it. He'd be his saviour because he didn't need to know about this life. He didn't need to know bloodshed. He already had enough to hurt from; his mother's death, and Hayato wouldn't let him hurt anymore.

Taking a long and thoughtful drag on his cigarette, Hayato leaned forward to face Shamal. "Alright, I'll do it. But first, I'll need my explosives."

If he was going to kill these guys and possibly get fucked for it, he was definitely going out with a bang.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I hope you guys liked this chapter! It was a long one, but I wanted to get Shamal and Hayato's past in there. There's still so much more I wanted to add, but I think that's enough information for you guys for now. Look forward to more chapters! As always, rates and reviews keep me going so don't hesitate to leave one!

**-Ruby **


	17. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XVII

**Author's Note:**

First, let me start off with thanking my ever so beautiful and patient waifu for helping me through this excruciatingly long chapter. I had a lot of melt downs writing it and she helped me work through them all. So thank you, Red. I love you chuu~

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone who's read and reviewed the fic so far, you all give me more inspiration to write each time. A super special thanks to my 8059 girls too, you guys are amazing. We have a private group on Facebook, so if you love 8059 as much as we do, message me to join! We're always looking for more members!

And thirdly, this chapter contains a large amount of complexity. It covers a lot of underlying issues the boys have and how they deal with them so pay close attention!

Finally, due to the nature of this chapter I have to add my own warnings to be fair to all the readers and their sensitivity levels. Here they are as follows :

**Suicide** **\- **Mentions of suicidal acts in passing, but no follow through

**Hayato x OC - **Slight and non descriptive.

**BDSM - **(Bondage and discipline, sadism/masochism) Nothing too hardcore, gory or offensive.

**Non-con - **(Non consensual) Slight, no actual rape. Mentions of partial violations in flashbacks, non descriptive

I think that covers them all, and if I missed something, I do apologize ahead of time. None of these warnings are to be taken too seriously, but I feel I must mention them in case a reader might be ultra sensitive to any of these issues. For those of you who chose to read on, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Thanks for reading!

\- Ruby

* * *

_**Chapter XVII**_

* * *

Hayato was pissed. He was stressed and furious and going out of his fucking mind. He was seething and annoyed and honestly just wanted to kill something. Or fuck someone hard and relentlessly.

This past week had everything to do with tonight. Had everything to do with why he was here, drinking cheap whiskey and smoking like a chimney, while furiously jogging his leg on the worn and rusted frame of the bar stool he sat on.

**Sunday** was the day he found Shamal under his sister's foot. The day he learned the Bovino had come to Japan, the day he learned all he cared about could be at risk. The day where he went back on the vow he had made to whatever god was listening that he'd never go back to the way of a hitman, that he'd never allow the world of the mafia engulf him again.

**Monday** was alright, to an extent. He spent it cooped up in his house, listening to Bianchi and Shamal argue for hours upon hours until sometimes he'd fall silent and Hayato had been pretty sure Bianchi had knocked him out with one of her poisons. He locked himself in his room with loud music to drown them out, and a large bottle of aged whiskey to drown his troubles in.

**Tuesday** was the day he learned about the murder. Murder number six if you included Ryohei's informant. Turns out the man who was dead was none other than the scar face that held Yamamoto captive and beat the shit out of him in a dark alleyway deep in Sakura Town. While Hayato was pleased he had met the appropriate demise for what he had done to Yamamoto, it was at the hands of a killer that still pissed him off. A murderer that always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

It was **Wednesday** he decided to go into the station, despite his gut telling him not to. There he was met with the stares of the other officers, crude and leering; offensive and judgmental. He disregarded them all because he was still superior and headed straight for Tsuna's office. There he was met with his boss and Mukuro, who after an exchange of vile insults between the two, was told to leave the room while Tsuna had a talk with Hayato. He proceeded to inform him he had been cleared of the IA investigation but he wasn't ready to allow Hayato back in the field just yet. Tsuna told him he looked tired and exhausted, and he was but that was because of the crazies that had taken over his house and because by this point he was really starting to miss a certain idiot.

To his embarrassment, his boss sat him down and told him he accepted his relationship with Yamamoto, even though Hayato insisted there wasn't one. He said he accepted his preference and that he wasn't going to judge because he'd be a hypocrite then. When Hayato asked how he could consider himself that, his boss had answered sheepishly that he to, was involved with a man. To further shock his subordinate, he went on to explain he kept it a secret for the same reason Hayato must have. For the sake of the department's reputation and for the sake of their friendship. Neither was true in Hayato's case, for he kept it secret because he was ashamed, because he was embarrassed and because quite frankly it was nobody's fucking business. And Hayato didn't want to embarrass his boss, but he couldn't help but blurt out a question that had been playing on his mind for a very long time. Was the man his boss was involved in Rokudo Mukuro?

And no, to Hayato's relief, it wasn't. Tsuna was involved with a man he had known from a neighboring school when they were teenagers. A man named Enma Kozato. They had been together since Tsuna became a police captain and Hayato had to commend him on his boss's secrecy.

However, the relief and nostalgia of talking to his friend like old times didn't last when Tsuna regrettably refused to give Hayato any information about the case except to tell him the body count was seven, not six. Seven bodies total because the man Hayato had shot was killed using the same drug that killed the informant. He didn't have to be a genius to know they were all connected.

Things got heated when Hayato pressed for more information, accusing Tsuna of having a mole in the department that was leaking information to the press and it was most definitely not him. Regardless of that belief, Tsuna denied him anymore access and demanded he go home and rest because he looked like death warmed over and Tsuna said it created a bad image for the department. Hayato stormed down the stairs only to be confronted by Ryohei who had heard everything by this time, including the one thing Hayato had hoped to keep quiet.

At first he didn't say much, other than the usual arsenal of insulting pleasantries that they often shared between each other but Hayato was already been in a bad mood, so instead of coming off as snarky and retorting with something as such, like he usually did, he ended up sounding harsh and irate to which Ryohei sneered and made a comment the will forever itch the underside of his skin.

_"Heh. Now I get why you're always bitchy to the extreme, you on your period or something? I always thought you were a bit of fag."_

Hayato's face had flared and he swiftly brought his fist to connect with his face and the ex boxer didn't even have enough time to react. He heard the satisfying crack of cartilage under his knuckles and Ryohei had dropped to his knees.

"Asshole," Hayato spat and before Ryohei could retaliate, he was dragged out of the building while the uniformed officers that had always hated him, always were a little jealous of him, finally got their chance to cut Hayato down with every derogatory slur they could think of. It didn't matter, though the words lashed and cut through his skin like a whip dipped in acid for they stung right after, he'd drown them all in the third bottle of whiskey he'd have that week.

By **Thursday,** Hayato had pretty much been drunk for twenty four hours straight, miserable and angry and despising his life. And for a few short moments, he had considered ending it. He wondered how he'd do it. Not pills, he hated them. He thought of places he could successfully hang himself from, but he didn't have the privacy for that. He'd definitely be stopped by those assholes in his living room still fucking bickering with each other. He just wanted quiet, was that too much to fucking ask for?

Maybe running a blade down the length of each forearm and watch red ribbons encircle his pale skin as he faded to black. But then again... that'd take too long. Then, maybe he'd use his service pistol. One bullet straight through his temple, or maybe through his mouth to the back of the head. But as the cool iron brushed against his lips, he shuddered. He couldn't imagine having it slip through his mouth and taste the metallic tang across his tongue.

To the temple. That seemed like the better bet. One clean shot and done, even if it was a little messy. But then he thought of his sister, and even though she was annoying as fuck, he didn't really hate her. Not enough to have her come in to find him like that, have to clean up his mess. That's when he lowered the muzzle pressed into the side of his head and switched the safety back on his gun.

Sighing, he realized that he was even too pussy to kill himself. One more thing he could add to the list of failures.

He couldn't figure out exactly where it all went wrong, _how _it all went wrong. He didn't even know why it all went wrong but it began when he met Yamamoto Takeshi. Nothing but a string of bad luck followed that bastard, and one thing piled on top of the other but when it came down to it, he was right at the center, right at the core of all of his fucking issues.

He wanted to be mad, he wanted to hate Yamamoto for everything and on some level he did, hated him for coming into his life and fucking it all up. Fucking _him _all up. He was an emotional wreck and he fucking hated it, hated Yamamoto for making him feel that way. And then, he considered pointing the gun at him and taking _his _life. A simple end to all his problems, the perfect solution to this complicated formula that had become his life.

But as he imagined what it'd be like, staring into those bright caramel and chartreuse eyes and watching the light fade from them, his heart wrenched and his stomach twisted in anxious knots and he knew he couldn't bear the thought, let alone the action. Because Hayato had become completely captivated by that man, completely dependent on his existence and he hated that too, but he knew... he knew that there was something more that stirred in him for Yamamoto. More than unbridled passion and lust.

When he broke his vow that he made to whatever gods had been listening, the one that made him swear to himself that he'd never revert back to a hitman, he knew. He knew that Yamamoto was worth that much, was worth protecting. His innocence was definitely worth saving.

Hayato knew, and while he wasn't ready to accept it, he was aware that he was in love with the reporter. Because his smile. reached a place in his heart he didn't even know was there until the first time he saw it, because his laugh made his blood boil but rush all at the same time. Because his fingertips made his stomach flutter every time he dragged them lazily against his skin and because the way he kissed him had him feeling love drunk and dazed, left him with a swollen erection but also a swollen heart.

And Hayato had no idea what the fuck love felt like, but he had never felt like this before and his logical brain needed something to call it other that a bunch of hormones creating a chemical reaction. And that was love; a can't eat, can't sleep sort of feeling, an overwhelming urge to not be without the addictive presence _ever._ A warmth he wanted to consume him every minute of his life. A body that he wanted to be his for the rest if his life, lips that belonged to only him and that stupid innocence to always bring him back from the brink of darkness. And that's when he realized he wanted Yamamoto all to himself, wanted to stake his claim on the man that made him love and hate and laugh and want to live all at the same time.

Because that was one more thing that kept him alive, kept him from pulling that trigger. As much as he tried to suppress it, Yamamoto's light made him reconsider every decision made at this point. He was the person he needed to remind him that there was still good left in this world, that there were still people worth fighting for. People worth _saving_, especially people like Yamamoto. If anything, Yamamoto was _his _saint, _his _saviour.

Except on **Friday **he had sobered up and realized that being with Yamamoto was impossible. He couldn't pull him down into this world, couldn't let him in on all the crazy. He _wouldn't _make him miserable like he was, make him partake in a life where the ever present stench of death loomed over them. He wouldn't put Yamamoto through that, especially after hearing how much his mother's death affected him.

As selfish as Hayato was, he couldn't keep Yamamoto for himself. He cared enough about him to let him go, that much he knew. He had to give up on the one thing that made him happy and he would if that meant keeping him safe. He would forget him, let him move on to a wife and kids and happy things. Things he'd never get from Hayato.

And that was why he was here, at this place. Tired and angry eyes roaming the crowd, leg jogging furiously and drowning himself in cheap whiskey. All he needed to do was forget. Forget the way his sinewy body felt underneath his palms, forget his lips and the way they tasted. He needed to forget that smile and the way he laughed and the way his stupidity and innocence made him feel. He wanted to forget that enigmatic dark streak that made him curious to see more, _want _more. He just needed to forget everything, and right now the whiskey wasn't cutting it.

He felt inadequate, emasculated and downright useless. He thought that he could solve the case, be done with with the Bovino men and put all this behind him. Then maybe he could clear a path for him and Yamamoto. Just maybe.

Except now, there was no way that he could. His boss wouldn't let him in, Ryohei was a fucking joke and he wasn't going to use Yamamoto. Not this time. The further he stayed away, the better.

While he knew that one phone call would save all this trouble, he had made the decision to keep Yamamoto out of this. All of it. He wasn't going to risk him getting hurt. The Bovino men were likely scoping out their options, doing background checks and finding affiliations between their targets so they'd have leverage if it came to that. The more he thought about it, the further he stayed away from Yamamoto, was definitely for the better.

Not having release for all his pent up angst, not being able to be a cop and do his job or being cooped up in his house with the crazies who made sexual passes or poisoned each other and just boldly invaded Hayato's personal space was really starting to drive him mad. What he needed was sex and there wasn't Yamamoto to tend to it and it was really making him crazy.

He had an itch he needed to scratch and on this night he found himself at a familiar bar with familiar faces. The place was good enough to find what he was seeking.

He was dressed in tight jeans and white collared shirt with a black sheer undershirt that hugged and stretched over his beveled torso. He wore his rosary and a tangle of chains around his neck with his hair pulled back in a tail. He knew enough to show off the better parts to him when he came to these places, like his neck and collar bone. He put himself on display and surveyed the crowd of people for curious eyes that drank in his presence.

Usually his gun and badge would be set on his jutted hips but since being suspended, he only carried his cuffs and small service pistol for protection. Hayato was reckless and he was hoping for a better outcome than having to use those items to protect himself. He had came here with intentions and now he was definitely drunk.

Hayato was not a bad drunk, he didn't stagger and fall or make a fool of himself. He wasn't a happy or giddy drunk nor was he a mean and violent drunk. If anything, his personality was magnified by the alcohol. He seemed more arrogant, more cocky and egotistical and usually smarter. But when he was drunk he also made a lot of bad decisions.

He knew why he came here, he needed release. He needed to viciously pound some useless fool into a mattress or floor or bathroom wall, anything worked as long as he could scratch that itch. As long as he could forget about everything for a minute, especially Yamamoto. Because not being with him hurt, more than he would like to admit but in the end he knew it was for the greater good. All things Hayato did, no matter how much he disagreed with them or how against his morals they were, all things Hayato did were for the greater good.

It was nearing two a.m, and Hayato had found a familiar face and he decided that would be the man he'd take back to a hotel with him. What difference did it make, his rules? He had already broken so many of them with Yamamoto, what difference did it make if he followed them now? He really just wanted to stop feeling for a little bit, forget Yamamoto and forget feeling emasculated, forget feeling like a failure and going back on his vow to never have any ties to the mafia when he landed in Japan. He didn't care who it was, as long as it was anyone other than Yamamoto.

Although strangely enough, the idea of being with someone else hurt him just as much as not being with him at all but he quickly pushed it down and locked it away with all the other emotions he had been feeling prior to his drunken state.

He didn't even know this guy's name, barely recognized his face. The man was ecstatic and happy, even apologized for the last time when they were together, acting as if _he _wasn't the one who made their first time a one night stand. Right, as if he ever had the chance to make it into anything but that.

Hayato told him to shut up and fumbled a bit with the motel room key, and the other man didn't stop talking. He was in the middle of lavishing Hayato with compliments when he stopped abruptly mid sentence.

Hayato didn't pay no mind until he heard his own name roll off a tongue, slick with confusion and anguish.

"Gokudera...?"

Hayato whirled around, felt his eyes widen in shock and his heart stop completely. He drew in a sharp breath and it hitched in his throat. "Ya... Yamamoto!"

The _last _person Hayato wanted to see right now. His stomach twisted and his heart wrenched. He didn't want Yamamoto to see this but maybe it was for his own good. Hayato knew he wouldn't have the resolve to deny him when it came down to it, so maybe this would work out in his favour.

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed and he cast a look over Hayato's shoulder to the man standing behind it. "Who is this?" he asked, his voice strained and hollow.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man shot back and Hayato narrowed his own eyes. Forfetting for a minute the purpose this accidental meeting might serve, he felt himself becoming angry and annoyed. The bastard had probably been following him, maybe even watching him. Hayato wouldn't put it past him. After all, Yamamoto was a man with a couple of screws loose.

"None of your fucking business," Hayato growled, turning around and fumbling once again with the key, the alcohol numbing his dexterity.

A hand came down on his shoulder and gripped him hard, yanking him back fiercely from the motel room door.

"Yamamoto!" It came out as a strangled gasp.

"Hey man, get your hands off him!" Hayato's partner yelled, attempting to dislodge Yamamoto's hand from Hayato's shoulder.

Yamamoto violently pushed the man aside and a low, guttural growl erupted from his throat. "Get lost. I'm not very nice when it comes to sharing things that are mine." He pulled Hayato into his chest.

Hayato looked up at his face and saw the darkness shadowing his otherwise sunny features. His lips were pressed thin and taut, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed to malicious slits and he wanted to be angry but his mind was spinning with shock and confusion.

The man opened his mouth to retort but shut it just as quickly and backed away. Something in Yamamoto's face must have scared him and after a few tentative steps backwards, he took off fleeing.

After the man was no where in sight, Yamamoto spun him around, tight grip on both his shoulders. "What were you going to do, Hayato?" he asked accusingly.

Snapping back to the current situation, Hayato shoved him away. "What are you doing here, you bastard? Are you fucking stalking me, you crazy fuck?"

Yamamoto took a step forward and cocked his head to the side. "Stalking you? I was out for a run, my apartment is a few blocks from here. I looked over and saw you. Your hair is a dead give away."

"What were you doing with him?"

Appropriate excuse or not, it didn't stop the rage ballooning underneath his rib cage. He didn't need to answer to anyone and really, why was Yamamoto so damn persistent? Couldn't he just take the hint and move on?

"I already told you it's none of your fucking business! I don't owe you anything, you bastard!"

Yamamoto reached for the key in Hayato's hand and snatched it free from his loose grip. He grabbed Hayato's wrist tightly and pulled him towards the door. "Get inside, you're making a scene."

Hayato had all the liquid courage he needed to face this side of Yamamoto and stay true to his decision to forget about him. He yanked his hand free and scoffed. "I'm making a scene? You're the crazy bastard following me, acting possessive and mentally retarded! I'm not going anywhere with you. You're a fucking psycho."

Here's hoping that offended him so much that he really did fuck off.

Yamamoto succeeded in getting the motel room door and turned to Hayato. "I said get inside. We're going to talk."

Guess not.

Hayato narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest. "Oh no, I'm not going anywhere with you. Like _hell._"

Yamamoto's eyes darkened and anger flashed across his face. "I wasn't asking. Now get inside before I make you."

The words smacked Hayato in the face and the rage he had building had exploded. He lunged at Yamamoto and fisted his t-shirt, shoving him against the wall of the motel. He let out an animalistic snarl as Yamamoto's head smacked hard against the brick.

"Oi! Just who the fuck do you think you're talking to?!"

Hissing and shaking his head, Yamamoto pushed him back and then grabbed him by the arm. Hayato managed to connect a left hook with Yamamoto's mouth, causing his bottom lip to split. They struggled and scuffled to dominate the other as punches were thrown and bodies were shoved and curses were flown. Finally, Yamamoto got dirty and yanked on a fistful of hair at the nape of Hayato's neck and for a split second he winced, allowing Yamamoto to close his arms around Hayato and drag him into the motel room while Hayato thrashed and sputtered a slew of obscenities in as many languages he could think of.

Luckily their ruckus hadn't drawn any attention, the people near this seedy motel knew better than to involve themselves in a scuffle between two men at three in the morning.

"How many times have I told you that you're mine? How many times have I said that I won't see you with anyone else?" yelled Yamamoto, tossing Hayato on to the bed. His head hit off the wrought iron headboard and he hissed loudly over the hollow _thwong _it made during the connection.

Hayato jolted upright and the sudden rush made the room spin for a half a minute. "Oi! How many times have I told you I don't belong to anyone! We just fuck, nothing else. You're nothing to me, don't you get it?! I haven't even talked you in a week, are you so dense that you can't pick up on the fact that I want nothing to do with you?"

Yamamoto stood the foot of the bed and for a minute Hayato saw hurt settle in, causing a wrinkle in his brow and his lips set into a frown, creasing the scar on his chin. Then it was gone as quickly as it came and the cold and stern look of anger was back. "Nothing, hm? I'm nothing to you, you say?"

He lurched forward in a flash, tackling Hayato on to his back, his head nearly hitting the iron again. Yamamoto set one arm on either side of his head and one knee set on either side of his waist, caging him in.

Hayato's reflexes were numbed by the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed earlier and he couldn't react in time. However, his mouth could and he was still seething from earlier.

"Yeah, that's what I fucking said, idiot! you have a hearing problem to go along with your stupidity?" he shot back. He attempted to shove Yamamoto off of him, but he was a big guy and a lot heavier than he looked.

Yamamoto leaned back and grabbed Hayato's wrists with one hand in a hard grip and pinned them over his head. "I don't like your tone, Hayato."

Hayato wormed underneath him, trying to break free of his grip. "I don't care! You're crazy! You're fucking crazy!" he shouted, eyes squeezed shut.

He felt Yamamoto lean in and his breath in his ear. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and low, sly and seductive. "Maybe so, but I'm beginning to think you like my kind of crazy, don't you, Hayato?" He lashed out his tongue and it left a trail of burning heat along his ear that made him shiver.

"See... you like that, don't you?" Yamamoto nipped sharply at his ear lob and another shiver rippled through Hayato.

"Get... get off me!"

But he does... Somewhere deep inside, Hayato likes the crazy. It's like a magnet and he's drawn to it, especially from the alluring man above him.

Yamamoto pressed his lower half down and Hayato could feel the outline of his erection through his sweatpants against his own. Instinctively, Hayato shifted his hips up just slightly, but it was enough for Yamamoto to notice. He hummed and Hayato could feel that carnivorous grin against his skin.

"Mm, Hayato... you're so unfair..." Yamamoto ran his free hand up Hayato's shirt, his fingertips skirting across a sensitive nipple. Leaning back, his eyes raked over Hayato's body and he bit his bleeding lip.

"Look at this, Hayato... Look at the way you're dressed. So naughty, you look like a whore," he said, pulling on the hem of Hayato's sheer undershirt.

Something in Yamamoto's movements, in his voice, sparks a fire in the pit of Hayato's stomach. It's an unfamiliar reaction but he knows he's turned on by this. It's new to him but there is something about Yamamoto holding him down that gets him hot and weak.

"F-Fuck you, bastard."

"Take it off," he demanded, releasing his grip on Hayato's wrists.

"What?"

"Your shirt, take it off. It feels dirty knowing all those men were able to see my Hayato through this slutty fabric... I don't like it, so take it off."

The words cut through Hayato pleasurably and he can't believe the twitch of his dick in response to Yamamoto's demanding tone. It's cold and harsh but so fucking seductive at the same time and Hayato doesn't know if he's pissed or horny. Fuck it though, because maybe he's a little bit of both and that makes for a dangerous combination. He likes being angry and rough, it's nostalgic. He wants to get back to the raw kind of fucking he's used to and he's glad because there are no unfamiliar and confusing emotions to this kind of fucking.

With a defiant growl, Hayato complies, shrugging out of his white button up shirt and pulling the undershirt over his head. Before he can get it off completely, Yamamoto takes advantage of the criss-cross position of his wrists, grabbing them and pinning them behind his head again.

Hayato yells a slur in protest but is silenced when Yamamoto pinches the bud between his thumb and index finger, leaning in to lap at Hayato's neck. Hayato shudders because he's never knew how sensitive his neck could be before this guy came along, especially the spot behind his ear that makes him jolt each time Yamamoto's tongue passes over it.

Hayato's not quite sure what to do here. He wants Yamamoto, so badly, but he knows that being with him again will only set back the acceptance of the fact that they _can't _be together back further. Unfortunately he knows the second Yamamoto's lips press against his jaw and up over his chin that he's going to kiss him. And sure enough, Yamamoto's lips make it to his and he responds.

The reaction is nothing short of an explosion, full of yearning and carnal lust. To make it sweeter, Yamamk8oto grinds down on him, tightening his grip on Hayato's wrists. Unable to struggle, or rather nor wanting to, Hayato parts his lips and Yamamoto moans into his open mouth before delving in. His tongue darts around, running along the roof of his mouth, his teeth and finally Hayato's own tongue.

Yamamoto abruptly breaks away and leans back a little, still with a firm grip on Hayato's wrists. He wears a grin, dark and cunning and his eyes are fixed and narrowed. "You keep playing with my head, Hayato... I don't like it. What should we do about this?"

"Bastard... if you're not going to let me fuck you, then fuck off. I don't want to be part of your fucking ravenous lunacy!"

Yamamoto's grin spread at an eerily slow pace, until it was sly and malignant. "So that's it then, hm? You just want to fuck me?"

Hayato felt like he was being toyed with. He wasn't into this fucking cat and mouse game. While he did enjoy a bit of a chase, what thrilled him most was the end result. The moment he's won and is dominating over the person that thought they had the arrogance to play hard to get when really they're just attention whores. What really turned him on was taking them down a few notches and making them feel used, taking any shred of self esteem they had left afterwards when he wouldn't even look at their faces. Stripping them of their dignity by fucking them into a mattress and not even having the decency to remember their names or stay after the deed was done.

And maybe, maybe this was his way of making up for the confidence he lacked. Maybe it had something to do with never feeling as adequate when he was a child. Maybe it had a lot to do with living with Shamal. Or maybe this was his way of filling a void that could never be filled, a large crater left open somewhere deep inside his soul that no amount of nameless one night stands could fill. Maybe it was because he was just as fucked up as Yamamoto, because maybe he had that void too. Maybe Yamamoto was empty on the inside just like he was, hollow and apathetic and the façade they showed; the masks they wore were to deceive _themselves _that everything was okay. That they were fine the way they were and that the gaping hole marring their souls wasn't painful.

Hayato's own impish smirk mapped it's way out on his face and he narrowed his eyes, challenging Yamamoto. Two could play at this game. "Yeah, you fucking psycho bastard. I just wanna fuck you."

Yamamoto raised a brow and Hayato could read the acceptance in his eyes, a challenge of his own in that crooked grin. He reached in between their groins with his free hand and massaged the straining erection pressed excruciatingly tight against Hayato's jeans. The relief felt good and it caused Hayato to gasp a little breath of pleasure as Yamamoto's slow caress began to ease of of the tension.

"Ma... I guess I can do that for you, Hayato. You feel awfully needy right here," Yamamoto said coyly as he continued to rub Hayato's denim clad cock.

"Che... I'm not... I'm not needy, I don't _need _to fuck you," he managed carefully but with conviction. He was afraid to open his mouth at all lest there be some tell tale signs that he was enjoying this all too much.

And as he said those words, Yamamoto stopped and stared down at him, his eyes narrowed to slits and the malicious grin still playing on his lips. He slid his hand out from between them and leaned in, smashing his lips against Hayato's in a ferociously bruising kiss that made the smoldering embers down in his groin flare up with rapid succession throughout his entire body.

He felt Yamamoto's hand on his hip as he ground his pelvis down, felt his hand slide up his obliques and over his rib cage as his tongue slid along the seams of his lips. He was mildly aware of a cool and smooth sensation following the trail of Yamamoto's hand but the heat from the kiss had Hayato reeling, so dizzy from the aching want in his cock and lack of oxygen to his brain. Yamamoto kept grinding and Hayato was so close to just seeking release before his dick was even unsheathed.

Yamamoto stretched out one of Hayato's arms until he felt the metal of the motel's cheap headboard against his knuckles. He closed his hand over Hayato's fingers and moaned into his mouth again, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end and a sharp twinge in the pit if his stomach.

Lips still locked messily and tongues clashing, heavy huffing and saliva dripping, Yamamoto took Hayato's other hand in his and stretched it over his head while he pressed down harder, causing Hayato to groan in frustration. He was so lost in the kiss, so caught up in the heated friction and so spellbound by the man on top of him that he wasn't aware until it was too late to realize the cool metal on his wrists and the dull clink and latch he heard meant that the crazy bastard had handcuffed him to the headboard with his own handcuffs.

The second he became aware, he bit down hard on Yamamoto's already injured lip and he yelped, pulling back.

"Oi!" Hayato shouted, tugging at the cuffs around his wrists now tethered to the bed. "What the fuck, you fucking twisted fuck! Let me out of these _right fucking now!_" he snarled.

Yamamoto leaned back once again, straddling Hayato's hips and licked the blood of his lip playfully. He laughed. "I quite like the look of you like this, Hayato."

Hayato wasn't freaking out yet, but he was undeniably infuriated. "You stupid fucking insane baseball bastard! Let me fucking go!"

Yamamoto chuckled and shifted down Hayato's legs, ignoring his angry and derogatory slurs and began working on his belt buckle. Hayato thrashed and kicked but Yamamoto's weight made it difficult for him to move and the constant friction between the cuffs and his skin was beginning to make the flesh sting and burn. The pain was bearable but Hayato was having more of a problem deciding if he should be angry because he had lost some of the control or be exceptionally turned on by the way he was being manhandled by this psychotically seductive man.

Yamamoto yanked down his jeans and boxers to his knees and the cool rush of air brought a little relief to his searing flesh. He succeeded in unearthing Hayato's still interested and erect cock and moved down, placing himself between Hayato's legs and Hayato could only watch with bated breath. He wrapped his long fingers around the shaft and stroked it slow, just once. The instant fire from the skin on skin contact was almost enough to make Hayato lose it but the anger he still felt was keeping him from getting too swept away this time.

"Hayato... what were you going to let that man do to you?" Yamamoto asked, innocently curious eyes sliding up Hayato's body.

"Fuck you," he snarled. "Why don't you shut that fucking annoying mouth of yours by putting my cock in it, bastard."

Yamamoto's grin was sly and he arched a long brow. "Oh... were you going to ask him to do that for you too?"

Hayato flushed red and he tugged on his restraints, the steel finally cutting into his skin. He contemplated breaking his wrists to get out of the cuffs so he could beat the shit out of Yamamoto and punish him by fucking him into oblivion.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," he repeated, eyes squeezed shut again as he tried to balance himself between lust and anger. "You better make sure I'm dead before I break out of these because I swear to god I'm going to fucking kill you, you crazy fucker! Stop fucking talking and get on with it!" he demanded, thrusting his hips up.

"Mm," Yamamoto hummed "Hayato... Are you begging for it? Haha, I think I like that." Yamamoto brushed his lips tantalizingly along the length of Hayato's cock.

Hayato groaned and tugged at the cuffs again, causing his wrists to bleed. "I don't beg for shit, especially from those fuckers. You _know _that," he growled, growing more impatient by the second.

Yamamoto dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit and he let out a hiss of pleasure. Hayato felt himself shiver.

"Mm... that's right," Yamamoto said, working his way up Hayato's chest with his lips and tongue. "I do know that because I'm the only one that get's you this way... aren't I?" He mouthed his collar bone, sinking his teeth into his flesh and leaving possessive marks on his snow white skin. "You _are_ mine, Hayato," he whispered harshly against the sensitive spot behind Hayato's ear. "Don't you ever forget that."

It sent a shudder straight through Hayato and he wasn't even able to protest. This man's ability to bring him to a hot, shuddering and shivering mess was incontestable.

"Say it," he demanded, nipping at Hayato's ear lobe. He licked up the shell and breathed heatedly against his temple. "Say that you're mine."

"Fuck you," he breathed and pulled on the restraints frustratingly. "Why don't you tell me that you belong to me? Why don't you tell me that you're _mine? _You weren't even into guys before but you love my dick so much it makes you crazy, literally," he sneered.

He really meant it. In some sort of twisted turn if events, Hayato had become obsessed with this man the minute he first met him. Looking back on it now, there wasn't a day that had gone by where Yamamoto didn't play on his mind, even when he tried to work, even when he tried to forget him. There wasn't any going back from this now, he wanted this man all to himself, just the way he was. Dark and twisted, happy and innocent. There was something in his multifaceted personality that made him special, that made Hayato want to keep him. He had so many different lights Hayato saw him in that made him realize that he had his own inner demons just like he did, all stemming from the loss of their mothers. And as much as Hayato didn't want to admit, they really were kindred spirits. Hayato didn't believe much in God anymore, like he had at one point but he believed that Yamamoto had been brought into his life for a reason, even if there wasn't a logical explanation his calculated brain could come up with.

Yamamoto sat upright, arms crossed and hand wrapped around his chin while Hayato continued to struggle with the cuffs around his wrists. He wanted to touch him, to feel him... to just _show _him how much he wanted the same thing, that he wanted to claim Yamamoto as his own too. He needed to show him what words couldn't express, because Hayato's never been good with words.

"You want to me to be yours, yet you're here with another man? Are you some sort of slut, then? Can't keep that dick in your pants, can you? Haha, I do love it though. That I can't deny."

Hayato looked into Yamamoto's hazel eyes and they were dark with a predatory haze and he wore a feral grin.

"But... you haven't been very good, toying with me... avoiding me, lying to me. That other man was going to touch you, feel you inside him... _My _Hayato. I just can't have that. Yet you say you want me to tell you that I'm yours. How am I supposed to believe that?"

"Yamamoto, let me out of these fucking things and I'll fucking _show _you, you bastard," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Yamamoto leaned forward and wrapped his long fingers around Hayato's throat. He brushed his lips against his ear. "I thought I told you to call me _Takeshi_ when we're alone. Say it," he demanded again, his voice silky and stern.

Hayato stilled and his eyes went wide and he felt goosebumps run along his skin. The heat he felt from Yamamoto's hand was searing and Yamamoto could not doubt feel his quickened pulse under his palm. He remained silent and still, breath rapid and shallow until Yamamoto released his loose grip on Hayato's throat and ran his fingertips down his chest.

"Ma," he said with a sigh. "You don't need to say it now, I'll have you saying it by the time I'm finished with you."

Eyes wide, Hayato looked at him incredulously and Yamamoto grinned.

He reached beside Hayato's head and picked up the flimsy undershirt and slowly dragged it along Hayato's chest. "I'm going to do something and you're going to be a good boy and let me, ne?" he said playfully.

Hayato furrowed his brow, growing more perplexed and perturbed and panicked as the situation went everywhere but in the direction he wanted it to go. "Wha-what?"

Yamamoto smiled and brought the undershirt up, wrapping it around each fist and pulling it tight. He pushed it against Hayato's throat and kissed his chin, his jaw and his cheek.

"Yama-"

He pressed the tightly roped undershirt hard against Hayato's Adam's apple and whispered in his ear. "_Takeshi._"

Hayato's heart raced, blood pounded in his ears and he audibly gulped. His brain was telling him to shut down, to pay no heed to the fact that Yamamoto had his shirt wrapped around his throat while nibbling and lapping at his ear lobe. Except his cock wasn't willing to ignore it. Once again it twitched, it strained and it was painful. _So _painful. He needed release and he needed it soon because he wasn't sure how much more if this he could take.

"Oi... what are you doing?" asked Hayato carefully. He refused to call this lunatic by his name.

Yamamoto looked down at him, sparks of mischief lighting his hazel eyes. "If I kiss you, are you going to bite me again?"

Hayato smirked. Here's where he could take back some of the control. "No kissing. That will be _your_ punishment for all this, you bastard."

Yamamoto grinned feral and his eyes lit up. "Punishment? Do you really think you're in a position to be talking about punishing me? Haha." He chuckled as he kissed down Hayato's neck and back to his ear. "There are plenty of other places I can kiss other than your lips..."

He ran his thumb along the lower seam of his lip, careful not to bring it close enough for Hayato to bite. "Even though I love to kiss these erotic lips... I really love to kiss your body too."

Hayato growled in frustration and Yamamoto laughed. "Gokudera's so cute."

"Fuck you, loony bastard. Have you ever had your head checked? You've got multiple personality disorder, I'm sure of it. You're bi polar and you're fucking _crazy._"

Yamamoto laughed again and brushed the undershirt against his cheek. "Nope, never been. Gokudera's got me crazy... So beautiful and erotic, it messes with my head... turns me into something darker when I see you with someone else." He sighed. "It... it really isn't fair." He narrowed his eyes and curled his lips into a lopsided grin. "You should take responsibility, Hayato."

"Ha, the crazy was already there." He paused then, "C'mon _Takeshi..._ uncuff me and let me fuck the crazy out of you," Hayato said seductively, rolling his hips.

Yamamoto looked as if he were considering the option but then he grinned wide but the bright smile didn't match the darkness in his eyes. "Ma... while that sounds like a really fun idea, I've got other plans for Gokudera." He quickly took the undershirt and covered Hayato's eyes with it.

"What? Wait, what other plans? Hey, what are you doing?!"

Yamamoto laughed and Hayato could have sworn it sounded maniacal.

Because the undershirt was sheer, Hayato was just able to see the blurred shape of Yamamoto's face while he tied the shirt behind his head. The lights outside the motel doors still flooded in, allowing a shadowing glow to Yamamoto's silhouette. Hayato thought it was a bit ironic, the play on light and dark. It was like the image before his was a metaphor for Yamamoto's true self. Bright and dazzling, iridescent and glowing but there was a darkness lurking, a shadow ever present looming over. Hayato wondered if his darkness was suffocating, if his aura was hard to suppress or if was the opposite, like him. Was Yamamoto ominous and twisted by nature like he was, and everything else was just a mask? A façade to detour everyone that might be wary of their presence, that would be scared to know their true selves?

Regardless of what it was, Hayato was curious. The attraction he felt was dangerous, it kept him from being rational but he was beginning to like that. Yamamoto was like a puzzle he couldn't solve and the magnetic pull that had on Hayato was bad.

_Because curiosity killed the cat..._

"Oi oi... I would have never imagined you for a guy that was into this," remarked Hayato, realizing by this time in their little game, resisting and complaining was futile.

_Heh... but satisfaction brought him back..._

And Yamamoto was indeed satisfying.

He felt Yamamoto trace down his face with his fingertips. "Why... does Gokudera like this?"

Hayato has never been through something like this and yes, he has come to realize that he did like it. He wasn't sure if it was Yamamoto and his dual personality, or if it was the fact that he was rendered helpless and manhandled by him or the fact that he was drunk and his inhibitions had flown out the window the second Yamamoto frisked him up and chained him to the bed.

He wasn't sure how to respond he just grunted and waited for Yamamoto's touch. He felt his lips on his sternum, warm and soft. His breath made him shiver.

He gasped a little when he felt Yamamoto's fingers rub his nipples gently with his thumbs and moaned when his tongue flicked over the sensitive buds. It was really true; being blindfolded, losing your sight, enhanced your other senses.

Yamamoto's teeth grazed each nipple, causing an electric jolt to shoot through his spine and he arched his back, aching to plunge his fingers into Yamamoto's soft, thick hair and pull at it.

He felt the heavy weight in his arms as they started to go numb, his wrists still bleeding and stinging from the cuffs chaffing his flesh. But all that took a stand in the back of his mind when he felt the flat of Yamamoto's tongue run up his shaft. He groaned and then bit his lip, fighting the urge to beg Yamamoto to _please,_ _just hurry up and put me in your fucking mouth already, you have no fucking idea how amazing your mouth feels._

His silent plea was answered when he felt Yamamoto's wet breath on the inside of his thigh, nipping his way up and then his mouth enveloped Hayato's cock.

It was hot, his mouth, working his way down to the base and using the flat of his tongue to run along the underside. Hayato let out a long moan and Yamamoto chuckled, the throaty sound vibrating down his shaft and resonating throughout his groin.

Forgetting for a moment that his hands were cuffed behind his head, Hayato tried to bring them down to grasp at his hair and push deeper into his mouth. But Yamamoto wasn't having any of that, Hayato realized. He had all the control and in this moment, Hayato was okay with that.

He slid Hayato out of his mouth and blew on the head, his rough tongue lapped up the pre-cum Hayato knew had begun to flow. His cock, so hard and straining and then Yamamoto's mouth was back, massaging the pressure that had built up. Hayato couldn't control it anymore and he came, filling Yamamoto's mouth. Curses spewed out of his mouth as Yamamoto milked him through his climax, greedily swallowing.

Hayato wanted to see his face, wanted to witness that lewd act but could see nothing through his blindfold so he pictured it instead; Yamamoto's full lips curved and tainted with his release while it dribbled down his chin and over his scar. His eyes playful but dark, and the tip of his tongue lashing out to lick the seams of his lips clean. It made him quiver and it was enough to pique the interest in his dick as he felt it grow haphazardly hard.

"Mm..." Yamamoto's smooth voice gave him goosebumps. "You look like you enjoyed that... Are you picturing something naughty, Hayato?" His hot tongue fell back on him, gliding up his navel and he gripped each of his hips.

"Yeah... me nailing you into the fucking bed," he rasped.

Yamamoto's tongue flicked over his nipples again. "Mm... soon, soon. Right now, I'm having a little fun with you."

And it's then Hayato feels the cold shock of Yamamoto's mouth leave him, then he feels a move in position and suddenly the weight on the bed shifts and he guesses Yamamoto has left it.

He strains to see through the blindfold but can't, the room is dark, for the lights outside each door have been shut off for the night, and so is the fabric and there is not even the slightest sliver of light to offer him sight, not even the dimness of the headlights that stream through the window as wayward cars pass by the motel.

It frustrates him because he can hear movement, soft rustles and padding and the sound of his own heart pounding. He prays to God that Yamamoto can't hear it because he's a little frantic and nervous and nothing but weak. He wants to call out and ask what he's doing but he doesn't want to give Yamamoto anymore pleasure in the way he's managed to make Hayato come undone. So he patiently waits and it isn't long before he feels the bed dip beside him as Yamamoto's weight returns to it.

He smells the faint scent that is Yamamoto's musk and his alone; soapy and fresh, with undertones of earth and sweet sweat. He's so close he can hear Yamamoto's steady breathing and then there's another shift in movement and the mattress on the other side of his head dips too.

Smooth fingers slide along the underside of his jaw and curl around his chin, a thumb runs along the seam of his bottom lip, pressing suggestively against it.

Against Hayato's logical reason, against his growing panic but indulging the growing twinge in the pit of his stomach, the _want _he feels, Hayato parts his lips and allows the thumb to slip inside. It runs over his teeth first before resting on his tongue. And Hayato curls his tongue around the thumb and closes his lips over the flesh and sucks. He hears the slightest hitch of a breath as he feels Yamamoto's other hand run through his hair and cup the back of his head.

Yamamoto moves his thumb and presses it to the back of Hayato's bottom teeth and tightens the grip on his chin. He pries Hayato's jaw open with just the use of his thumb and something soft and blunt brushes his lips.

Hayato knows what it is right away, as he lashes his tongue out and sweeps it across the head of Yamamoto's cock. He tastes a bit of come, salty yet sweet and he moves his head forward to wrap his mouth around it but Yamamoto yanks his head back, using the grip he has on his hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn't mean to but he groans and oh god does ever sound needy, he's so mortified. He feels his face begin to burn and Yamamoto chuckles softly. "Not yet," he says and he pulls his thumb out of Hayato's mouth.

He feels it then, Yamamoto's cock, heavy against his lips and the slickness of come falls on to them. Not wanting another jerk to his head, Hayato indulges and licks his tongue out again, tasting his lips, tasting Yamamoto's cock. He laps and curls and flicks until Yamamoto is letting out the softest moans, raspy and just as needy. It makes Hayato smirk because it's in those moans he's gained some control back because he knows Yamamoto can't contain himself much longer.

He leans in once more and Yamamoto let's him, allows his cock to finally slide past Hayato's lips and into his mouth. He uses the grip he has on Hayato's hair to push into him further, far enough so that he fills Hayato's mouth and his head nudges the back if his throat yet his lips haven't even reached the base yet.

Yamamoto elicits a hiss of pleasure and slides into him once more and this time Hayato moans, deep and throaty as to make sure the vibration reaches the depths of his groin. He wants to taste more, he wants Yamamoto to fuck his mouth the way he wants to fuck him. Rough and hard, frantic and frenzied. But he doesn't.

He pulls out and Hayato grazes his teeth along his shaft, tries to use his mouth to pull him back in but that only earns him another hard tug at the back of his head.

"Enough." One word, spoken like a command and Hayato complies.

There's another shift in movement and Hayato feels the heat of breath and Yamamoto's lips coming down on his and for a second, he wants to kiss him. But he remembers his words and decides to own them so he turns his head to avoid those soft and full and sweet tasting lips.

"I said no kissing," he says, just as firm as Yamamoto had spoken just seconds before. Yamamoto is still above him, and he hears a bit of a chuckle, but it's dry and sardonic.

"Ma ma... Like I said before, Hayato's body is just as good. Your skin is so beautiful, soft and white and marked by my mouth."

Hayato felt him trace the raw flesh where he had bit and sucked, no doubt having left marks all over his skin. He felt Yamamoto's lips and tongue and teeth back over his chest again, working their way down to his now erect cock. His patience was wearing thin, there was only so much foreplay he could take before enough was enough. He wanted to be inside Yamamoto, feel his warmth and tightness clench down around him, feel him quiver and quake as he came beneath him.

"Take this off, uncuff me now."

"Not yet."

"Fuck you, Takeshi. Fuck you. Do you want me to beg? Because I ain't going to. If you're not going to let me fuck you, uncuff me and go the fuck home."

Yamamoto laughed and kissed down the inside if his thigh. "Shh," he said, his breath wet against Hayato's skin. "Have just a little more patience."

Hayato's protest was lost when he felt Yamamoto lean back and undress him completely, removing his shoes and jeans slowly and meticulously. His slightly callused hands glided up Hayato's thighs and he nipped and kissed the insides. His mouth landed on Hayato's cock again, hot and wet and he nearly came apart then too.

He felt Yamamoto palm each of his thighs to spread them apart, mouth still sliding up and down his cock excruciatingly slow. Then just Yamamoto's tongue was on him, the rough flatness lapping over his head. Hayato shuddered and groaned and then gasped in surprise when he felt the tip of Yamamoto's tongue dragged down the crease of his ass.

"Oi," Hayato breathed. Anxiety began to rise, curdling in his stomach. "D-don't."

Yamamoto didn't respond and he didn't stop as fingers pried him open and the heat of the wet muscle swept over his cleft, his hole and his perineum.

Hayato drew in a sharp breath and flinched. Before he could open his mouth, Yamamoto's tongue repeated the same action, only slower. His stomach pulled tight and another breath hitched in his throat as his lungs seized. Yamamoto's tongue laved up his ass again, slow still but he pressed harder with the flat of his tongue and a strangled moan dripped off Hayato's lips.

"Mm... such a lewd sound. Do you like this, Hayato?"

"Nn-no," he panted, finally as his lungs let go and he gulped in quick, shallow gulps of air. "I said... said don't." He tried to move his arms again but they were numb and heavy, nothing but dead weight above his head. His eyes were wide beyond the blindfold but all he saw was darkness.

But Yamamoto didn't listen and he did it again, harder and hungrier but still tentatively slow.

Tension ripped through Hayato's body, tightening every inch of muscle till they cramped. His heart so thudded hard he could hear it over the rushing blood that pounded between his ears.

He wasn't sure, he wasn't ready. He didn't want this. He tried to push the anxiety away, tried to feel the pleasure beneath it all but all he could feel was the sense of violation and exploitation. Emasculation and helplessness. He twitched and shifted, tried to move his lower half away from Yamamoto to make his point clear. But Yamamoto had a point to make clear too, when he bit down on his inner thigh so hard that Hayato jumped and hissed in surprise.

"Don't move," he commanded sharply, fingers pressed harshly into his skin.

Hayato couldn't take it anymore.

Yamamoto's switch between benevolence and malevolence was driving Hayato crazy. He couldn't catch a break and now he was starting to panic. This game of teasing had gone beyond erotic and playful to just plain sadistic and Hayato didn't do sadistic. Or at least he wasn't going to be the _victim_ of Yamamoto's sadism. He was slowly beginning to realize that he had lost complete control over the situation and there was no way of turning the tables. Yamamoto had the upper hand and that didn't sit well with him.

And then he felt it.

In spite if everything, he froze completely. Even his breathing stopped. The knowledge of what he felt pressed against his ringed muscle, soft but firm in small almost soothing circles, sent him into a frenzy and he snapped.

He pulled on his arms, tugging furiously at the cuffs around his wrists, chaffing and burning and cutting into already raw skin. He felt warmth trickle down his forearms. He thrashed and kicked and bucked off the bed, snarling and sputtering slurs of whatever flew off his lips.

"Fuck you, you bastard! Let me go now you crazy fucker! Enough! Enough! This is enough already!" he shouted, mortified with the tremble in his voice and horrified that he lost any and all control he _thought _he had.

He felt Yamamoto loom over him, felt his hands cup his face, framing them between broad palms as he straddled him, his thighs pressing hard against Hayato's hips.

Hayato still struggled, but it was near impossible to move underneath Yamamoto's weight.

"I said that's enough! You've gone too far and I want out!" Hayato screeched, the tendons in his neck straining and his vocal chords taut. His voiced echoed off the hollow walls of the motel room, resounding in his ears.

He felt Yamamoto lean in and felt his warm breath on his neck as he whispered in his ear.

"I... I love Gokudera."

Hayato stopped moving abruptly. His heart skipped a beat and stilled.

"I want to be Gokudera's forever..."

A hand slipped up his cheek and fingers tangled slowly and affectionately through his hair.

"Won't you let me show you?"

Hayato breathed heavily and could find no words to respond. What Yamamoto was asking for was too much of himself to give and he wasn't prepared for that at all.

Fingers slipped underneath the blindfold and slid it back into his hair. At first, all Hayato could see was a black abyss while his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. And then a car drove by, the high beams cascading a florescent pool of light over Yamamoto's face and though only briefly, the image etched itself into Hayato's mind like he had witnessed it for an eternity.

Yamamoto's features were soft, subtle. Nothing like the feral and menacing darkness that clouded them earlier. His lips were parted slightly, questionably and his eyes were warm and anticipating. _Honest _and innocent.

But Hayato grew up in a world where looks were deceiving and anyone would tell you what you'd want to hear just to get what they wanted. He wasn't that gullible six year old brat who believed his father's wife was his mother or that his sister just accidentally poisoned him because she was bad at cooking, not because she was jealous that Hayato stole all of the attention. He wasn't that thirteen year old brat that believed Shamal took care of him because he loved him, showed him he cared by letting him smoke and drink at that age, or showed him how to be a man by letting his strung out and drunk party dates nearly rape him on several occasions.

And now, he definitely wasn't a man that he believed could be loved by anyone. There was never a time where he was.

"You... you bastard! Don't just go throwing those words around so carelessly! Have you no shame? Telling people those things just so you can fuck them? Honestly -"

"I know," Yamamoto interjected with a sigh. "I know it's hard for Gokudera to trust people... for whatever reason. But I... truly love Gokudera and _only _Gokudera."

Hayato silently fumed and mulled these words over and over in his head until they became near incoherent as Yamamoto reached behind him. His mind derailed when Yamamoto's fingertips traced over his arms gently, through the ribbons of blood that had began to coagulate. He heard a soft _plink_ and latch as Yamamoto removed the cuffs, dropping them to the bed and caught his heavy arms with his hands. Hayato hissed from the sharp pain and the numbness, the blood in his veins suddenly rushing to the parts that had been without for so long.

Yamamoto took both Hayato's hands in his and pressed them against his hard chest. Hayato felt the palpitations under his palms, fast and erratic and hard like his has been moments before.

"Do you feel that, Gokudera? It's a funny thing, the heart... It's an organ with only one function and that's to keep us alive. It's got no mind of it's own yet it races when I see you, hurts when I miss you, stops because it knows I can't live without you. My heart beats for Gokudera alone, and nothing else."

The weightof Yamamoto's words felt heavy on his chest. Felt heavy in his heart and shit, he wasn't in a position to disagree because what Yamamoto said was true. The heart is a stupid organ, going against its sole purpose of functionality and getting a mind of its own. His too, raced when he was with Yamamoto. It wrenched when he thought of being without him, giving him up to protect him. It seized when he thought to forget him by erasing him out of his memory, out of his heart by being with someone else. The heart, _his _heart made his mind all fucked up and unable to process normal thoughts. It gave him emotions he had never felt before and still didn't want to feel because he didn't quite understand them.

And that's what he was good at. Running away and shutting down when something he couldn't understand scared him, when something he couldn't process logically made him flee in the other direction and never look back.

Yamamoto folded his hands into his and let them drop to each side while he leaned in and kissed him, brushing his lips tentatively and testing. Hayato was still, waiting for his mind to make reason of all this.

When he didn't respond, Yamamoto kissed the tip of his nose before letting go of his hands and running his own through Hayato's hair, cupping each side of his head between them.

"Just give me all of you, Hayato. I _will _love you and you won't... you won't have to be lonely ever again."

Something had lodged itself in his throat, something hard he couldn't swallow. It hurt when he gulped and tried to breathe and his heart felt as heavy as lead. He didn't need to see Yamamoto's eyes to know the conviction in them, he heard it in his voice. The raw and honest conviction, a vow to take responsibility. A lifetime commitment.

And so Hayato thought. In his world there were many deals made, many contracts signed, negotiations being litigated and none of them came with a price so high. This wasn't a bargain, an exchange for an offer or favor. This was a promise, nothing cheap and trivial and to Hayato it was something monumental. People often make promises they can't keep but do they do it with such an earnest expression? Do they offer something so big for something so little in return? Deals were often made with offers with equal value, and Yamamoto wasn't just asking for sex.

He was asking for love.

And Hayato wasn't sure if he could return it, he wasn't even sure what it was but if what he felt fell under that emotion then he already had what Yamamoto wanted. And until he knew for sure, he could never tell him those words but he wanted to show him that he felt something similar. Hayato was tired of running.

Drawing in a shaky breath he uttered one word that would make or break him but he'd worry about the consequences later, because Hayato was heedless and reckless just as much as he was calculated and collective.

And he said it real low and quick, barely above an audible whisper because he needed to get it off his lips before his brain really did catch up and put a screeching halt to his temporary insanity. "Y-yes," he concedes shakily.

"Yes... what, Hayato?" asked Yamamoto, leaning back on his heels, his naked ass brushing against Hayato's already stiff erection.

Hayato propped himself up on his elbows and scowled. "Fuck you, do I need to repeat myself? You really want to give me the opportunity to second guess myself, you bastard?"

"Haha, no... I guess not."

"Che... what an idiot."

Yamamoto chuckled and Hayato surged up to kiss him, capturing his injured lip in between his teeth. He winced but held Hayato steady, pressing his fingertips into his shoulders. Hayato grabbed onto his tongue and sucked hard, finally delving his fingers into Yamamoto's hair and clutching at the feather soft locks. And just when he thought he had managed to gain some control again, Yamamoto shoved him down on the bed and pounced on him, fiercely attacking Hayato's already tender neck with his teeth.

Hayato hissed and tugged at Yamamoto's hair while thrusting his hips up seeking friction from Yamamoto and he didn't need to do it twice before Yamamoto ground down on him, hard while he moaned into his ear. His one hand flew up into Hayato's hair and pulled while the other made its way down to his chest, finding a hard nipple and rubbed it with his thumb.

Hayato let out a moan of his own, feeling a tingling sensation move from the tips of his toes to the base of his spine. "Come on, _Takeshi,_" he growled, reaching between their hips to grasp Yamamoto's cock.

Yamamoto lapped up the side of his neck and groaned in his ear. "Unh... I love it when you say my name... say it again."

Hayato scoffed and tugged at Yamamoto's dick. "Hn? Weren't you going to _make _me say it by the time you were done with me? How can I take anything you say seriously when you can't even keep that promise?"

Yamamoto stopped and turned his head to look at Hayato, eyes dark with a predatory hunger. He smashed his lips hard against Hayato's and their teeth smacked and their tongues flew out, messily locking. He pulled away and nipped at Hayato's bottom lip and chin, biting down hard on his throat.

"Hayato's so seductive... you'll only ever talk that way to me, understand?"

"Yeah... fuck, whatever." He pumped Yamamoto in erratic and uneven strokes, barely being able to contain the pleasure he felt when his cock rubbed against Yamamoto's.

Yamamoto tugged on his hair, so hard that Hayato felt it in the roots, his scalp tingling. "Only me, Hayato. Got it?"

A shudder passed through him and goosebumps prickled his flesh. He was so turned on, he never thought he could feel lust like this, so primitive and carnal yet it was more than just that, it was their connection that made the fuse between them ignite into an explosion of raw passion.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I got it."

Yamamoto pulled away from him then, out of Hayato's reach and for a second Hayato felt a flash of panic, fearing he had said the wrong thing the wrong way and put an end to their mutual concession.

But that thought was quickly tossed out the window when Yamamoto fit himself between Hayato's legs and put his mouth around his cock without a word. Heat flared and spread throughout his chest and his hands found their way back into Yamamoto's hair, pressing his head down and forcing him to take all of him and he didn't stop until he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Yamamoto's throat.

"Takeshi," he groaned, thrusting his hips froward. He was rewarded with a chuckle that resonated down to the base of his cock and he nearly came.

Yamamoto pressed his hands into the hollows of Hayato's hips and drove them down hard into the mattress, freeing his mouth of Hayato's cock and in the same swift motion, he spread Hayato's legs apart and licked down the crease of his ass.

"Fuck," Hayato murmured as he felt himself tense up but it didn't stop Yamamoto's ministrations. That was good, he didn't want to stop. He wasn't going to think this time, he was just going to _feel_ and the heat of Yamamoto's tongue pressing hard against his entrance felt fucking amazing.

Yamamoto must have noticed he had relaxed a little because the trash of his tongue was more aggressive than before. Hayato didn't know what to do with his hands so he stroked his own cock while he imagined it was Yamamoto's instead.

He felt the nudge of a fingertip and stiffened, but Yamamoto gave him a warning nip on his cheek and followed it with his tongue. "Relax," he said, his breath wet and hot against Hayato's ass. "You're mine and I'm yours now. Just give in and stop resisting already."

Hayato propped himself up on his elbows again and shoved Yamamoto's head back down between his legs. No one tells him what to do.

"Shut up and get back to work," he growled with a smirk.

Yamamoto hummed and Hayato could feel him grin against this thigh. "As you wish," he said and his tongue lashed out and found its way back along the path of Hayato's ass. His finger also made its way back there, slowly pressing against him. Hayato concentrated on his breathing, trying to calm himself into enjoying the pleasure instead of panicking.

He felt Yamamoto press his fingertip against his hole, teasing and rubbing in small circles, pushing in slightly every so often. It felt weird and foreign but enthralling all at the same time. Yamamoto eased his way in, swirling his tongue between his finger and Hayato's ass.

"_Aah!_" he breathed and the first bit of this new experience began to take its toll on him. He could feel the heavy pressure weighing deep in his groin and Yamamoto added a second finger. That burned, just a little and the intrusion was uncomfortable more than anything. But he bit down on his lip and gripped the bed sheets as Yamamoto twisted and curled his fingers.

He was wet down there, he could feel it. The sounds were mortifying, the slick _shwick shwick _noise Yamamoto's fingers made slipping in and out of him made his whole body flush with heat. He couldn't hold back the breathless moans that fluttered off his lips as his legs trembled and his body quaked.

He helplessly whimpered, hurting his manly pride, when Yamamoto withdrew his fingers and left him feeling empty.

Fuck... he couldn't believe that he just made that noise. The power Yamamoto held that brought him to his knees was embarrassing.

Yamamoto hummed to himself and chuckled. "Gokudera's so cute, it's so unfair," he said as he kissed up his thigh.

"Sh-shut up, bastard." Hayato's face burned and he couldn't catch a breath.

He felt the bed dip to the side and he heard rummaging through the darkness. The darkness that was the back of his eyelids because now the sun was beginning to rise and Hayato couldn't bear to open his eyes to see Yamamoto's face. He was too ashamed at what he had been reduced to.

He heard the clinking of his belt and a soft _thup_ and he guessed Yamamoto had gone searching for something in his jeans. Curiosity piqued and frustration growing, unsurety beginning to settle in.

It was then he opened his eyes and looked over at Yamamoto who looked absolutely fucking edible.

Sweat sheen brow and hair an unruly mess, he currently had a foil packet set between his teeth and his lips were bruised and plump red. His eyes were set and focused and when he caught Hayato looking, he grinned.

"What are you doing, you idiot? Who stops in the middle of all this to what... is that a _condom?_" Hayato asked, now infuriated and insulted. "I'm clean, you fucking bastard."

"I know," Yamamoto said, tearing though the packet with his teeth. He took eyes of Hayato long enough to look down as he slipped the latex over his hardened shaft, peeking our through his lashes to see if Hayato was watching.

And if course Hayato was watching. Though fuming still, how could he not watch as this incredibly alluring man rolled the latex down over his cock meticulously and seductively slow.

"It's to make it easier for you and well, for me too. That's what this is for also," he said, holding out his palm to reveal another foil packet that Hayato recognized as the lubricant he carries with him on nights like these.

When he thought back to what he was about to do with some man he cared nothing about just hours earlier, it made him shudder in disgust. The thought of being with someone other than Yamamoto made him feel nauseous and dirty and it was a weird feeling to have. Yamamoto was all he needed to satiate his sexual hunger, all he needed to fill every void he had ever felt up until this point. It wasn't a question of monogamy but Yamamoto was his now and he be damned if he wasn't going to be selfish about it. He wouldn't see him with anyone else and the thought of it made him feel just as crazy so much so that it made him understand a little, Yamamoto's need to claim him as his own too.

Hayato rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I know what that's for, idiot."

"Okay... just saying because... it's gonna hurt, you know."

Hayato felt his face flare up and a slow panic worked its way though his gut. "Idiot! Don't go telling people that before you do it! Where's the other Yamamoto, hm? Bring him out, you crazy fucker. He's not as stupid." Hayato averted his eyes and caught a glimpse of the sunrise beyond the curtained window of motel.

He heard the other foil packet open and a laugh from Yamamoto. When he felt hands on his thighs, he turned to come face to face with Yamamoto as he leaned in close. His eyes were narrowed and clouded and he grinned menacingly. Hayato shivered with just that one look, heat pooling in his belly.

"Are you sure you want _that _Takeshi?" he asked suggestively, licking his lips.

Hayato reached up and let his hand card through Yamamoto's hair almost lovingly until he found purchase at the nape of his neck. He grabbed a fistful of short black hair and tugged sharply, smirking.

"Yes... I want _that_ Takeshi. I want _all _of Takeshi," Hayato said, accentuating those heady words by licking a hard stripe over his Adam's apple and the scar on his chin.

Yamamoto uttered a low, guttural growl and shoved Hayato back down into the mattress and kissed him feverishly. He straddled him and ground down hard for good measure, his cock hard and ready. Hayato bit and sucked at Yamamoto's neck, hungrily as overwhelming desire flooded his being.

Yamamoto worked his way down Hayato's torso once more and stopped just short of his cock to squeeze lubricant out on to his fingers and lathered it onto his latex clad dick.

The reality of what was about to happen hit Hayato hard with sobriety and he felt himself begin to panic once more, feeling like he was suffocating as his lungs tightened and he struggled to draw in air. Images of being thirteen and in Shamal's apartment, being violated and emasculated raced through his mind and he hadn't realized before that maybe this is where it all stemmed from. Or perhaps it came from before, his anxiety, from being told by his father that he wasn't good enough, that a whiny pansy brat like him could never be a real man. It hadn't occurred to him at all that this might be the reason for his need to be dominant and overpowering and having all the control until he was about to hand over his manhood to a man he barely knew but was so helplessly captivated by.

The man he was so helplessly in _love_ with.

Before going further, Yamamoto looked up at him and rubbed his cock in slow even strokes. "Relax Hayato... I'm not doing this to hurt you."

He knew this, he _believed _this, but it did nothing to ease the tension.

Yamamoto kissed the head of his cock, his abdomen and back down his shaft. "I'm doing this because I love Gokudera and I want to show him my love with the only way he understands."

And with those words said, Yamamoto swallowed his cock and the instant heat rushed through his veins, relaxing his muscles and loosening his lungs. He let out a breath that came out like a moan but he didn't care how he sounded at this moment. Yamamoto took advantage of Hayato melting undneath him to plunge two fingers in and Hayato did flinch and tense but Yamamoto's hot mouth worked him out again.

Hayato's hands clung to Yamamoto's hair and slid down his face when Yamamoto looked up at him again, dark arousal sparked in his eyes and for a second there was a flash of concern as his fingers inside Hayato ceased movement.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hayato dug his fingernails into Yamamoto's cheeks and scowled. "Just shut your mouth and fuck me already, bastard. I told you I ain't gonna beg."

Yamamoto pushed himself up on his knees and forcefully grabbed Hayato's thighs, throwing each leg around his waist. Hayato felt the coolness of the lubricant in between his ass and the heat of Yamamoto's cock against it. There was a little anxiety still, but the yearning for release was far more present in the pit of his stomach. The want for Yamamoto was overwhelming.

"Once I'm in... I won't be able to hold back. I won't be able to stop if it hurts," Yamamoto said with just the slightest sly grin.

"Fuck you. I'm not a girl, you fucking idiot. I don't want you to make love to me, I want you to _fuck _me. Fuck me, Takeshi." Hayato ground his ass against Yamamoto's hardness and Yamamoto growled, grabbing one of Hayato's thighs and spreading him open.

He took his cock in his other hand and Hayato soon felt the blunt edge of his head push into him. The stretch of something not meant to be expanded to fit a cock, especially one like Yamamoto's, burned searing hot. Hayato tensed and gripped the bed sheets, white knuckle and bloodless.

"You have to relax, Hayato or I won't fit. You're really tight."

Hayato squeezed his eyes shut as heat spread quickly throughout his cheeks and ears. "Sh-shut up... don't say shit like that."

But he steadied his breathing and tried to relax and Yamamoto pushed further into him, so slow and excruciating. Some sort of strangled noise made its way up his throat and out of his mouth when Yamamoto eased into him more, filling him up inch by inch.

The overbearing pressure was intense but Hayato eased up, allowing more of Yamamoto to enter him, relishing in the pleasurable stretch and burn he felt. The pain was almost comforting, hitting some spot in the back of his head reveling that somewhere somehow, in his mind this is exactly how this should be. Painful enough to remind him that that he was still human, that he could still _feel _things and comforting enough to know that he could relax and be free. Yamamoto was the one person he didn't have to hide from. If what he said was true, he loved all of Hayato and he could be himself, whoever that was, and Yamamoto would never judge.

A snap of Yamamoto's hips jolted him out of revelation as he entered Hayato fully to the hilt and he cried out loudly. Realizing how wanton he sounded, he clamped down hard in his lips with the edges of his teeth and breaking the skin in the process. Fuck, that hurt. More than he had anticipated.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt Gokudera!" said Yamamoto frantically. "I kinda lost it for a minute. We should stop. Are you-"

Drawing in a sharp breath and exhaling deeply, Hayato composed himself. Sort of. He was really annoyed at this point, so much so it was threatening his erection.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Yamamoto. I'm not fucking breakable like a little school girl. I'm a fucking man and I can take it! Now shut the fuck up and _move_!"

Yamamoto stared down at him in an expression of disbelief but behind that he saw something carnivorous. An intense hunger that made Hayato's adrenaline spike off the charts.

"Okay," he said, grin feral.

Yamamoto moved sharply, snapping his hips so hard they slapped against Hayato's ass and he stifled cries and hissed through erratic thrusts. It hurt like fucking hell, yes, more than all the times he had been shot. It hurt worse than having to see his sister's face early in the morning after a long night of drinking and a debilitating hangover. It made Hayato seriously want to die at points and several times he had thought who the fuck in their right mind would want to do something this goddamn painful. He obviously wasn't in his right mind.

Hayato should probably have given himself more time to adjust but the whole fucking night had been one big frustrating game of stop and go. He had been through hours of cocktease and he was sore and exhausted. He wanted to release all of these emotions coiled tightly within him because he knew what that would lead to. The pent up feelings, the experience of his first time and the things that came with it and finally just being able to feel Yamamoto move against him in a blinding frenzy of lust would make him come apart at the seams. It would be an explosion of epic proportions well worth the wait.

At some point, Yamamoto released his grip on Hayato's legs and grabbed onto his hands, folding them above his head, closing the gap between them. He began to slow his pace and Hayato relaxed a little bit. To smell Yamamoto, to touch him and taste him was all something Hayato needed to aid himself in seeking pleasure from this whole experience. Only then did it start to feel good, some of the pain subsiding, losing to a sensation that Hayato didn't have a name for.

"Does it feel good, Hayato?"

"Nn... don't talk," he murmured through a moan.

"Do you understand now how much I want you? How much I _need_ you to be mine?" asked Yamamoto, punctuating _mine _with a hard thrust. He hit that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside Hayato and it made him see white.

"_Mm__!_" Hayato blurted, somewhere in between a stifled cry and an affirmation of Yamamoto's question.

"Say it, Hayato. I need you to _say __it_," Yamamoto panted, raspy and sultry, jerking his hips hard as he hit that spot again.

"Fuck! Yes, I'm yours... fuck, I am so yours, you crazy bastard," Hayato groaned. He bit down on Yamamoto's shoulder and he groaned in response, rolling his hips, driving himself in deep.

"_Aaah! _Jesus fuck..."

"That's right," Yamamoto snarled heatedly against his skin. "You are mine. Don't you forget that."

Heat flushed his body, his insides were flaring. Hayato tried to breathe, tried to focus on on _anything_ that would keep him afloat but Yamamoto kept his fast paced rhythm, sometimes grazing and sometimes hitting that same spot that made Hayato cry out every time, drowning him in a pool full of lechery. His cock dragged across Yamamoto's rigid and chiseled stomach, each time leaving a damp, sticky trail. He dug his fingernails into Yamamoto's hands; sank his teeth into Yamamoto's flesh, each time tasting sweat and salt and flatness and the taste of Yamamoto's skin was like an aphrodisiac to him. Unbridled pleasure mounted within him until the pressure became to much and Hayato's climax ripped right through him like a speeding bullet, straight from the tips of his toes that curled and jolting like sharp lightning bolts at the base of his spine. It left him literally seeing stars as red and green and black dots spread across his field of vision. He was so lost in his rapture, picking up the mental pieces of himself scattered all over the place, that he hadn't noticed Yamamoto had come too until he flopped down on top of him, gasping for air.

"Nn... heavy," he complained.

"Ah... sorry," Yamamoto muttered tiredly. He pushed himself up and eased out.

There was the initial tenderness and rawness that made Hayato hiss and bite down on his lip in pain but then he felt empty and deprived. He watched Yamamoto pull off the condom and tie it, tossing it to the floor and trudge to the bathroom.

Hayato suddenly became very aware of how much every part of his body ached and throbbed. When he shifted in the bed to make a move. towards the bathroom as well, he winced as jarring pain ripped through his lower half. Growling and frustrated, he flopped back down into the pillows and sulked. That damned idiot had put him out of commission for at least a day, just when he was getting back to being able to move freely after his leg injury. Fuck this guy... and dammit, was he ever stupid. It's not like he regretted what he had just done because to some extent he enjoyed it and mostly because he just needed to get off, but now he had set himself back and put himself in a vulnerable position if the Bovino men happened to find Bianchi before he and Shamal did. More importantly, how the fuck was he going to explain the severe ligature marks on his wrists and the numerous bite marks and hickeys he was bound to have?

Yamamoto came strutting out of the bathroom, looking as rugged and tired as Hayato felt, with a wad of tissues and a damp cloth. He looked up at Hayato with a somber smile. Hayato worked himself into a sitting position, drawing his knees to his naked chest and draping an arm across them.

It was odd, the feeling that he got. The nuance he read from that smile disturbed him. Naturally, questions about how Yamamoto felt about what just happened started piling up, filling all the space in his skull. It could be that he didn't like it at all, maybe Hayato didn't perform well... maybe now that the rageful lust was gone, he was second guessing their relationship. After all, Yamamoto had laid some heavyset words on Hayato during this whole exchange, perhaps he was regretting all the things he had said because he hadn't really meant them in the first place. Because maybe it really was all just a ploy to get what he wanted out of Hayato.

Yamamoto stood at the foot of the bed and eyed him cautiously.

Hayato's heart thudded hard against his rib cage.

"Hayato... I... I'm sorry I -"

His heart leapt into his throat and his stomach churned. "I knew it," he blurted, his mouth acting before he sought out reason. "I knew you were lying. It's fine. Go home, I want to sleep." He avoided Yamamoto's eyes and rested his head on his arm laid out over his knees.

"Eh? Lying? About what?" Yamamoto's voice was laced with surprise and confusion.

"About the things you said earlier. I said it's fine, just go home already." He really didn't want to have this conversation.

"What things...oh. _Oh. _Hayato, do you still not believe me?"

"What?"

He felt the edge of the mattress depress under Yamamoto's weight as he crawled across the bed and tilted Hayato's chin. Hayato refused to look at him.

"Everything I said before, I meant. I really do love you."

Heat crept across his cheeks and reached the tips of Hayato's ears. "Then why... why do you look like that?" he asked, suddenly feeling very unguarded and wide open. He didn't like this feeling.

"Because... because I hurt Gokudera and I didn't mean to. I just... I just get too carried away and I'm a really bad person for taking advantage of Gokudera like that. I'm really, really sorry."

Hayato glanced at him incredulously. Yamamoto's eyes were solemn, his mouth was frowning. For someone who just got what he wanted, he didn't seem very happy at all.

"Che... you didn't hurt me, you idiot. Is that what you're worried about?" Relief flooded every crevice of his body and he felt incredibly stupid. Such vulnerability was embarrassing and not fitting of a man of Hayato's prestige. He was beginning to feel like more of an idiot than Yamamoto was, if that was even possible.

"Of course it's what I'm worried about! B-because I forced myself on Gokudera-"

"You didn't force yourself on me, idiot."

"And I thought... I thought that Gokudera would hate it, hate _me_ for what I did."

Hayato sighed. "I don't hate you."

Some brightness found it's way into Yamamoto's eyes and a smile tugged at his lips but it didn't reach his eyes like it usually did. It was still sad and bleak.

"Did you hate it?"

Hayato felt himself blushing again. "I... I didn't hate it... not really."

Yamamoto threw his arms around Hayato and squeezed. Hayato was still sore and the pain was mounting immensely. He winced and hissed and Yamamoto quickly let go.

"Sorry... it's just that Gokudera makes me so happy-"

"Stop apologizing already, it's fucking annoying. Now are you coming to bed? Because I'm dead fucking tired."

"But what about all the blood on your arms... from what I did to you? Can I at least-"

"No, I don't care about that. I can wash it off after," Hayato said with a yawn and Yamamoto laughed.

"Bastard, what's so funny about this situation?"

"Haha, Gokudera really is cute."

Hayato reached over and pinched Yamamoto's nipple. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"Ow! That hurt," he whined and Hayato glared at him. "Ma ma, okay. Here, come under the blankets." Yamamoto shifted and pulled back the cheap feeling blankets. He waited for Hayato to work his way under before slipping underneath them himself.

"Next time you decide to get kinky, let's do it at your place. Sleeping in these beds really disgust me," Hayato muttered.

"Haha, alright," Yamamoto replied tiredly. He pulled Hayato close to him, not leaving an inch of empty space between their bodies and draped an arm across his waist.

Hayato was grateful for sleep. He loved it, wished he could sleep every minute of the day sometimes, especially nights like these. What made it even better was the warm body against his back, the chin resting on his shoulder and the subtle breathing he heard in his ear. He was near sudden blackout when he felt Yamamoto's hand glided up his chest and his fingers tangled in Hayato's rosary.

"Ne... Gokudera... This cross you wear... Do you believe in God?"

Hayato felt like this was a conversation to deep for him to have right now and he wasn't having anything of it, so he answered Yamamoto's question with, "Mm."

"Do you believe that God brought us together for a reason?"

"Idiot," Hayato muttered. "Go to sleep."

"I just wanted to say that I think he did. Gokudera came into my life at just the right time, just when I needed saving."

And this confession made Hayato's eyes go wide and his face flush with heat and his heart skip several hard beats. He didn't say anything and Yamamoto fell silent. He breathed an inward sigh of relief and began to drift off only to be jarred out of slumber yet again.

""Ne, Gokudera?"

Hayato groaned. "What, Yamamoto?"

"What happened tonight... it won't happen again, right?"

Really? He picked now to ask about kinky sex? What a fucking pervert.

"If you don't let me sleep, it will _never_ happen again. Ever. I'll abstain from having sex with you for good. Now shut up and sleep."

"No," Yamamoto said seriously. "Not that. I mean... you, with someone else. You won't do that again, right?"

Oh. _That_.

Hayato sighed. In the end, dark side or not, Yamamoto really was just an innocent and insecure guy. His other persona was fun to play with but this is who Hayato really liked. This was the real Yamamoto, idiotic and kind of bashful; clueless and naive and pure. It made him realize once again that Yamamoto was the perfect fit to the complexity that was Hayato Gokudera. As cliche as it sounded, he was Hayato's missing puzzle piece. That someone that made him feel whole, the person that had everything he needed to fill the void he had felt for so long.

Heart happy and smiling to himself, Hayato took Yamamoto's hand in his and squeezed. "Hey, baseball idiot... Have you already forgotten? I'm yours and you're mine now, right? Don't ask such stupid questions."

He felt Yamamoto's chin stretch as he smiled and Hayato didn't need to look to see the brightness in it. He hugged Hayato tighter and nuzzled into his hair. Normally this closeness would annoy him, but Hayato would let Yamamoto have this one too, just this one time.

"I really love you, Gokudera."

"Shut up and go to sleep."


	18. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XVIII

**_Chapter XVIII_**

* * *

_"Uncle Shamal, Uncle Shamal!"_

_His childish voice echoed loudly off the fine Italian marble tiles lining the empty corridor. This castle seems much too big for such a tiny boy. _

_A tall man, with rich chocolate brown hair that sweeps over his eyes and shoulders when he moves, turns slowly and greets the boy with a smile._

_"Whaddaya want, brat?" he asks, his voice smooth like silk. He's a smooth operator, a negotiator by nature. _

_The boy __manages__ to catch up to the man, out of breath and with a wide grin on his face. His silver hair frames his round, angelic face and his sparkling jade eyes are wide with enthusiasm._

_"Uncle Shamal! Will you come play with me? Show me that trick again, the ones with the paper airplanes!" he says excitedly._

_This man, Shamal, __is the little boy's uncle but not by blood. At this age, the little boy doesn't know that. He's six years old and the only thing he knows is that this man spends more time with him than his own father does, because his father is always busy. He's the only person that's left._

_"Tch... don't you have someone your own age you can play with?" Shamal teases._

_The boy is always happy, despite feeling really lonely a lot of the time. He's very bright, and knows when he's being messed with._

_Rolling his eyes, he says, "You know that I don't. Bianchi is always making me eat stuff that makes me sick and all the maids are boring." He scrunches up his nose and waves his hand in front of his face. "And they smell like old ladies because Mom doesn't want pretty ladies to work here." _

_Shamal barks out a laugh and looks at the boy incredulously. "Now where'd ya hear that, kid?"_

_The boy smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. "I have my sources. C'mon Uncle Shamal! Show me that really cool trick where you throw the bombs at the planes and hit them like 'Bullseye!'" He makes exploding sounds with his mouth and emphasizes with his hands. _

_Shamal can't help but laugh and he tousles the boy's hair. "Fine, fine. But only for a little while. You'll have to learn it one of these days, I can't always be here to play with you, brat." _

_"I will, you better believe it! I'll get so good with those bombs that you'll be asking me to teach you that trick!" _

_They make their way to one of the many terraces that line his father's castle. The boy thinks it's grand, he still gets lost in it. He's gotten better though, he's needed to find hiding spots for when his sister comes to play with him. The boy doesn't like to play with his older sister, she's mean and weird. Sometimes she's forcing things down his throat that make him really, really sick and other times she's always stroking his hair, always wanting to play with it but she gets mad sometimes and pulls it. She's even cut it once. The boy doesn't quite understand it yet, but he thinks she may be jealous of him. He doesn't know why, since she gets all the attention from their parents, especially their mother._

_He doesn't like his mother much either, she's very cruel when she's alone with him. She hits him and scolds him and calls him names when his father isn't around to hear. He doesn't quite understand that either, but he feels no connection to this woman. He doesn't feel like she loves him, so he often avoids her too._

_There are always people here, coming and going but there is no one that interests him. There was a lady a long time ago, so long ago that the boy can barely remember her face. She used to come and teach him to play piano and she was the nicest lady in the whole world. She was kind and spoke softly, always with a smile on her face. The little boy can't even remember her name, if she even had one. He enjoyed the company of this woman and worked hard on his lessons to please her. She didn't come often but then she stopped coming altogether. When he asked his father, he was told to get lost and that he was nothing but a reminder of all his father's failures in life. When he asked his mother, she told him to never mention that tramp in her presence again - whatever that meant. And when he asked his sister, she told him it was because he was bad. Bad at playing the piano, bad at playing with his sister and just a bad boy in general. _

_The boy cried for a few days, but like any resilient child his age, he eventually got over it and didn't much think of her anymore. Except for today. Today, even though Uncle Shamal was playing with him, he was exceptionally lonely._

_"Hey," he began, tugging at Shamal's suit sleeve. "Whatever happened to that lady that came to teach me piano?" _

_Shamal looks down at him with confusion. "What are you talking about, Luciano? She's right there," he said, pointing to the little boy's hands._

_"What...?" The boy looks down at his hands and they're covered in a red, sticky substance. Paint? No... he hadn't been painting._

_"Wha... what is this?" he asks, his voice trembling._

_Shamal looks confused, like this is something the boy should already know. "It's blood, Luciano. The blood of that woman, your mother. Her blood is on your hands."_

Hayato jolted upright, jarred out of sleep by the recurring nightmare that had seared itself into his memory. His chest was tight and his stomach was in knots. He could feel himself trembling and he struggled to breathe.

He scanned the cheap motel room and found that he was alone. He was always alone. There was blood on his hands, but not the blood of his mother's this time. Shamal wasn't in the room and neither was Yamamoto. He was alone and frightened, like the little boy in his dream.

The nightmare only came when he was stressed out, when he felt nothing but regret and right now he was terrified with dirtying his hands with the blood of the Bovino men.

These men could have sons, daughters, brothers or sisters. They were sons. He didn't want any more blood on his hands. He didn't have a choice. These men were coming to kill his sister, maybe himself and Yamamoto too. He had to take care of them before anyone else got hurt. They've killed before, probably innocent people like his mother, who all she did wrong was give birth to him. He'd gladly give his life in exchange for hers.

These men were hitmen. They were killers and it didn't mater who they killed, as long as they received a reward for their hit. Killing them was justifiable, wasn't it? He's killed himself, when his life was in danger, when his job called for it. Could he really call himself any different then these men? Yes, he could. Because he killed to protect, not for the sake of it. Not for money or for fun.

He was relieved that Yamamoto wasn't here to see him like this, last night's lack of his manliness has really left him bitter and embarrassed. Groaning, he he drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face into his hands.

"Fuck," he muttered. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Hayato tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back if his mind, the one that was telling him that Yamamoto had left him just like everyone else. Tried to ignore the panic that rising in his chest, creeping up and wrapping itself around his heart and sinking its talons in. He was an idiot. He had been used and abused and what a feeling that was. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed last night, he did. Somewhere inside him where he had those couple of screws loose, the pain and torture felt good. Too good. It left him wide open, he let his guard down and this was the price to pay for that. He should have known better.

His life was a complete mess. Turned upside down by one person. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing was routine and logical. He hated it, he hated it so much and there was so much mess everywhere that he didn't know where to start the clean up. Maybe himself, first. He was fucked up, probably more than Bianchi and more than Yamamoto. Last night's revelation really shed some new light on some underlying issues he didn't even know he had. He liked being in control but at the same time he liked having it taken away from him, chained and helpless and at the mercy of someone else. Now if that didn't spell fucked up, he didn't know what else to call it.

But then he had to go and develop feelings like a true fucking idiot and that complicated everything. Now he needed to collect the pieces of himself that were scattered all over his messed up universe. That was going to be a job in itself and before he could do anything else, he needed to suck it up and get over it. Forget about it and move on. He had thick skin, he was resilient, right? Shit hurt, but Hayato wouldn't be here if he was one to give up so easily_._

Just as he moved to get out of bed, there was the scraping sound of keys in a lock and the motel room door opened.

Hayato looked up, startled to see Yamamoto walking in through the door in a fresh change of clothes; dark black jeans that looked delicious on him and a crisp red plaid shirt buttoned down a bit, carrying a tray of coffees. He smiled wide and it hurt Hayato's eyes to see a smile that bright when he was feeling this gloomy.

"'Dera, you're awake! I brought coffee, thought you'd need it, haha." He shut the door behind him and walked over to set the tray down on the bedside table. Leaning over, he grabbed Hayato's face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

Hayato's brain was still processing being wrong, as that didn't happen to often. He was so shocked, he couldn't open his mouth to demand where he was which is what he had wanted to do the second Yamamoto walked through that door. This kind of irrational fear was no good. It made him so weak and so stupid.

But when Yamamoto kissed him, he kind of melted a bit, slowly and the uneasiness and fear and everything else began to dissipate. It was a lengthy kiss, and Hayato felt love and longing and happiness from that kiss and he found it the strangest thing; these things that he never really felt before yet he knew what they were as they poured off Yamamoto's lips and flooded his mouth.

When Yamamoto hastily broke away from the kiss, Hayato was still speechless and Yamamoto's eyes were filled with concern.

"Hayato, you're shaking! Is everything okay? Are you sick again? I should have -"

"I-I'm fine," he said, voice raspy and cracking. It had been a rough night for his vocal chords.

Yamamoto didn't look like he was buying it but he didn't pry. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you before I left. You looked so... perfect sleeping. Like an angel and I didn't want to mess that up."

Hayato's face heated up and he reached to pluck a coffee cup from the tray. Yamamoto crawled on the bed behind him and laid a trail of kisses along the wing of his shoulder blade. It sent a shiver up his spine.

"Don't say sappy shit like that... idiot."

He felt Yamamoto's grin against his back as his arms slipped around his waist. "Somebody's gotta tell you."

"Where did you go?" he asked, opting for a change of subject rather than the nonsensical banter that would have ensued.

"Home," said Yamamoto with a shrug.

"To your dad's place?" He took a sip of his coffee, black and no sugar.

Yamamoto chuckled. "No, I told you last night that I live close by here, haha."

"Well excuse me for not remembering," Hayato said with a scoff. "You aren't wearing your glasses and you weren't last night, either. Did you break them or something?"

"Oh, haha... No... I uh, forgot them," he said sheepishly, moving Hayato's hair and kissing the nape of his neck.

"You don't need them to see, baseball idiot?"

Had Hayato not been in so much pain, even though it was dull and all over, he'd want to freeze this moment for a long time. It was stupid, definitely sappy but he thought that right now there was no rush to go anywhere. It was just them, talking about stupid things and there was no outside world to ruin it.

And then his phone rang. Yamamoto reached over on the side of the bed and came back with Hayato's phone and handed it to him. The caller ID revealed it was the department, so Hayato held a finger to his lips and answered the phone.

"Gokudera," he said clearing his throat.

_"Kufufu. Quite the good morning, isn't it, Gokudera Hayato?" _

"Mukuro," he growled.

Yamamoto looked over at him, startled.

_"Oyaoya, such a harsh tone for your superior. Listen, though it's fun to play with you, I'm a bit pressed for time. You need to come down to the department immediately." _

"Why? What's this all about? The Tenth told me he hadn't cleared me for work yet."

_"Oya, are you really in a position to decline, Gokudera Hayato? Be grateful that I pulled some strings so that you were able to get back on the case."_

Hayato felt an instant of excitement, getting back to working on this case was exactly what he needed to take his mind off other things. He'd just have to tell Shamal to deal with the Bovino men because he'd be too busy. But he still felt uneasy, he didn't like owing anyone anything. Especially not this fucker.

"What time should I come in?"

_"It should take you about an hour from that dreadful part of town you're in-"_

"What-?"

_"And I'm guessing you'll want to go home and shower first, so I expect to see you in three hours. That'll be five o'clock. No later, Gokudera Hayato, or you can forget about getting your badge back."_

_Are you spying on me again, you pineapple __fuck?_ is what he wanted to say but he didn't want to ruin his chances of getting back on the force.

"That's fine," he said instead, through gritted teeth.

_"Kufufufu, say hello to Yamamoto Takeshi for me there, you might want to thank him for your job back too."_

"How the hell do you know that?" But the dial tone was all he got in response. He hit the end button and turned to Yamamoto.

"Are you okay? What did he say?"

"What did you say to him?" Hayato snapped, suddenly feeling infuriated. How dare this guy go around meddling in his affairs, they barely even knew each other and just who did Yamamoto think he was, interfering and begging for his job back.

Yamamoto leaned back, brow knit in confusion and hands up in the air. "What? I didn't say anything! I don't even know the guy!"

"Then why is he saying I should thank you for my job back? What did you do, Yamamoto?"

"I didn't do - ah! Maybe he's talking about me quitting."

"Hah?" asked Hayato in surprise.

"Well, kind of sort of qutting. I told Miura-san I wasn't interested in reporting crime anymore. It's just not for me. I like writing about baseball and other sports much better, haha."

"So you quit this high profile case to go back to the sports column?" Hayato asked with skepticism.

Yamamoto shrugged. "Well yeah. I didn't like Gokudera being so upset about not working on this case. I know it's important to Gokudera, but it's not as important to me. When it comes to making Gokudera happy, it's an easy decision."

Hayato eyed him suspiciously before leaning over, grabbing Yamamoto's collar and tugging him in for a kiss. He was warm, so warm all over. Nothing in the world mattered more than this right now. The fact that Yamamoto would give something up that in Hayato's opinion was of importance, just for him, made him feel really... special. He couldn't think of another word to describe it.

"You really are an idiot," he said with a contented sigh.

Yamamoto wrapped his arms around Hayato once again, nuzzling his face into the crook of Hayato's neck. "Mm, Gokudera's idiot, right?"

"Yes, yes... my idiot. Do you need me to show you the way you showed me?" he asked slyly, reaching up to card through Yamamoto's hair.

Yamamoto nipped and kissed his neck, running his tongue over the sensitive spot behind Hayato's ear. "While I'd love to get fucked hard by you right now, shouldn't you be getting ready?" It was that dark and sultry voice, the voice of _that_ Takeshi.

The sound of his voice had a ripple effect, sending shudders down his spine in succession. It brought back memories of last night where he was chained and teased and tortured and finally fucked hard into the cheap motel mattress and he couldn't help getting hard at the recollection. Damn, he wanted Yamamoto, so bad and he didn't care what way he had him or which Takeshi he got as long as he got something right now.

"It can wait, this won't take long," Hayato said as he turned to Yamamoto and pushed him down on the bed. As messed up as it sounded, there was something unbelievably erotic in being covered in blood and sweat, cheeks streaked and stained from the painful tears of last night. His body was in pain, marked all over by Takeshi and that made him tick in a good way. It made his cock hard and his heart race and his head get all muddy and frazzled. He liked the feeling, whatever it was.

Kissing him hard, Hayato wasted no time undoing the zipper to Yamamoto's jeans while he tugged on Hayato's hair and moaned into his mouth. Once succeeding in that, Hayato tugged down his jeans and boxers and hungrily devoured Yamamoto's cock.

"Ha-Hayato!" Yamamoto shouted with pleasurable surprise.

Hayato didn't care anymore about anything, this felt good; it felt right.

Lapping up pre-cum off the tip of Yamamoto's cock, Hayato pumped sure and steady. "You like that?"

"Y-yes... feels... unh, Hayato..."

Hayato looked up at Yamamoto's face, bashful and blushing while biting his still swollen lip, trying to hold back.

_Fuck__ he looks so cute_, Hayato thought, bobbing his head and working his mouth efficiently.

"Nngh, Haya... I'm gonna come like this," Yamamoto whined, pulling on Hayato's hair.

"Then come, I'll drink you all up," he said, licking his lips and taking him all in once more.

And come Yamamoto did, bucking his hips forward as Hayato tightened his mouth around Yamamoto's cock and swallowed. It never ceased to amaze him how this man could make him break so many rules, try so many different and new things and because it was with him, Hayato enjoyed it all.

"H-how are you gonna...?"

Hayato paused for a moment, wondering if he was ready to take it this far. It was something else new to him and he wasn't sure he was going to like it. Or even if Yamamoto was going to like it. But fuck it, right? He didn't have a lot of time and he really wanted Yamamoto badly, so smirking once more, he pulled off Yamamoto's shoes and pants and spread his legs wide.

"I'm going to fuck you, hard like you wanted. Is that alright with you, Takeshi?"

Yamamoto knew exactly how to play with him, he was convinced. This man couldn't be better at reading him and knowing exactly what he wanted when he needed it.

Groaning, Yamamoto slid a hand down Hayato's face and cupped his chin, tilting it so that Hayato could get a better look. He licked and bit his lips, locking his eyes and holding Hayato's gaze while he licked his lips seductively. "Yes, _yes._ Fuck me, Gokudera. _Please." _

And Hayato delved in, nipping and kissing along his muscular thighs and sweeping his tongue in the hollows. He made up his mind, he was going to do it because, fuck it. Why the fuck not?

Hayato was never gentle, he didn't really get off with soft and slow and tender. His like for the rough and the erratic and the pain was dangerous and the fact that he was reckless didn't make it any better. So he pried Yamamoto's ass cheeks apart, loving the way Yamamoto so willingly hooked his arms under his thighs and spread further, aiding Hayato like the good little boy he was playing. And Hayato told him this.

"Mm, Takeshi... being such an obidient boy today. Do you really want it that badly?"

"Y-yes, I want _you_," he exclaimed, panting.

Hayato smirked and licked up his crease, feeling and tasting on his tongue. It wasn't any different from the way Yamamoto's skin tasted, and Hayato was addicted to the way Yamamoto's flesh made his tastebuds explode.

Working hard and fast, Hayato pressed the tips of his fingers against the slick ringed muscle. Yamamoto moaned above him and Hayato so badly wanted to make him squirm for last night. A little piece of revenge for making him _need _Yamamoto so much.

Curling his tongue around his fingers, he pushed in and probed and instantly felt Yamamoto tense with a hiss. He didn't stop, he used his tongue to prod alongside his two fingers while his other hand stroked Yamamoto's cock.

"Aah, shit," Yamamoto whined.

Hayato hummed, pleased and began twisting and pulling out, corkscrewing with his fingers carefully and meticulously, following with a wet swipe of his tongue.

Yamamoto was writhing, shifting and titling his hips and begging for Hayato, and although he wanted to make him suffer just a little bit longer, he really was short on time. If his life was really starting to go in the right direction, there'd be plenty of time to seek revenge on the gorgeously tall, dark and alluring man.

"_Please _Hayato. I'm ready. I'm _begging._ I want you inside me," Yamamoto groaned and Hayato had to pause for a second to appreciate how this guy could flip his switch like that. How he could go from sadistic and torturous to bashful and begging wantonly. It nearly made his hard and straining cock jerk and release but he held out. He wanted to be inside Yamamoto just as much as Yamamoto wanted him inside.

Gripping a hip, Hayato slipped in slow, relishing the warmth and tightness that encased his flesh. A moan, wispy and breathless, floated out from his throat and he closed his eyes, filling Yamamoto to capacity.

"Nn, 'Dera... feels good."

Hayato couldn't think right now, he just wanted to move. He did, snapped his hips hard and Yamamoto cried out his name, and he kept himself propped up on one arm with Yamamoto's legs still wide. After a few quick and hard thrusts, Hayato realized the position they were in was a little to painful and awkward for him to enjoy their connection. There was some kind of nameless feeling he had spreading throughout him and it was more than just lust and the want for just Yamamoto's body or for his own release. A different feeling from all the other times he's slept with Yamamoto. He wanted to be closer to him, to feel Yamamoto's body against his own.

He pulled out slow and leaned in, kissing Yamamoto softly, gently. Unlike his fast and rough pace from before. When he broke away, Yamamoto stroked his cheek worriedly.

"Is everything okay?"

"Mm," Hayato hummed, kissing down Yamamoto's neck and across his shoulder. "Turn over."

Yamamoto tilted his head up to kiss Hayato, pulling and kneading his bottom lip between his teeth. While they kissed, Hayato stripped him out of his shirt, mapping the curves of muscle in his chest and abdomen with his palms. When he was done, he moved back and allowed for Yamamoto to turn over on to his stomach and Hayato climbed over him, kissing in between his shoulder blades.

"Stay like this," he whispered in Yamamoto's ear. Yamamoto nodded and Hayato stretched him out, easing in slow.

He felt good, hot and tight inside and his whole body was on fire. Yamamoto turned his head and watched, and Hayato couldn't stop the flush of heat that spread across his face. He leaned in and kissed Yamamoto, the awkward angles of their mouths making it all the more enticing.

What was this feeling? This expanding pressure that started in his stomach and out through his chest, that squeezed his heart and closed off his lungs... it was a good feeling, weird and unnatural but the pace he rocked his pelvis at, the passionate but leisurely way they kissed each other had created some sort of warm pressure, a heavy feeling in his chest. Could maybe this be what making love felt like? It felt stupid to even think it, his face burning with embarrassment but it was the only thing he could think of. The only explanation that Hayato had for turning his fast and hurried need for release to something that was much more down tempo and fervent.

He descended further, using his arms to push himself up and hold himself steady. The pressure and tension was uncomfortable in his biceps but it was well worth the position. He watched Yamamoto grip the bed sheets as a short cry and hiss followed when he hilted, burying himself deep. Hayato began to move, rolling his hips lazily while holding himself up on either side of Yamamoto.

"Takeshi," he moaned against Yamamoto's shoulder. His hair matted was to his neck with sweat and Yamamoto;s hair was just as unruly. Hayato reached out and tugged on it gently and Yamamoto whimpered breathlessly in response.

Hayato was close, teetering on the edge of release and wanting to prolong this new found feeling. He focused on delving in deep and the way Yamamoto felt and sounded and the feeling he still felt in his chest, heavy on his heart. He lowered himself down on one elbow and nipped at Yamamoto's sweat-salty skin.

"Hayato..." came Yamamoto's voice, low and pleasurably subdued.

"Hm?" he asked, lifting his head as he thrusting in deep. He watched Yamamoto close his eyes and his lips part, letting out a cry as he hit that spot that just about did Hayato in. So close, he couldn't afford to lose concentration now.

He felt Yamamoto tense underneath him, clenching tightly around his cock, sucking him in to the heat. He stretched out an arm and folded his hand around Yamamoto's as he came, riding him through the waves of his orgasm. Yamamoto squeezed his hand and panted, moaning as the last bit of his climax rippled through him. And he had to rest his head on Yamamoto's shoulder blade and brace himself as an intense explosion of white fire caused him to shudder violently as he came too.

"Fuck... Takeshi," he groaned huskily against Yamamoto's back, holding him tight to keep the room spinning.

"I... I love you, Hayato," he uttered with a soft lick and kiss to Hayato's lips.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, Hayato rolled over next to Yamamoto, who quickly grabbed him and pulled him in close.

"Feel better?" asked Yamamoto, kissing the top of his head.

"Yeah, kinda... though I think I did more damage to my body," Hayato said with a frown, lifting up his arm. The fresh scabs had been broken and the cuts on his wrists were bleeding again.

Yamamoto returned the frown. "I'm such an idiot... I got too carried away."

"Shut up, I'm fine. I need to go home and shower, though."

"I drove here, I can drop you off."

"Okay... hey, were you able to get any information on Rokudo from your contact?"  
"Yeah, I'm actually going to see him later. Did you want to come?"

"The information would have been useful before today," Hayato said, pinching Yamamoto's side.

"Ow! Haha, that's not my fault! _Somebody _didn't want to call me, what was I supposed to do?" Yamamoto teased, poking Hayato in the shoulder. His flesh was still tender and he hissed at the prodding.

"Sorry," Yamamoto said dejectedly. "I really am the worst."

Hayato pinched him again and muffled Yamamoto's cry with his mouth.

"Shut up, idiot. I... I liked it."

"Gokudera... if you keep kissing me, we're never gonna leave this bed."

Hayato smirked and kissed Yamamoto again. "Mm, yeah. That's a problem. These beds disgust me. I feel really dirty."

"You _are _really dirty, haha!"

"Oi! Shut it, you bastard!" Hayato shouted, slugging Yamamoto playfully in the shoulder.

Yamamoto doubled over with laughter and Hayato joined him, not knowing that what he was feeling was truly happiness, some state of finally finding some inner peace.

* * *

Their car ride to Hayato's house was full of nonsensical chatter and banter and hearty laughter. Though Hayato had been dreading seeing Shamal and Bianchi in this condition, Yamamoto was making it hard for him to dwell on it.

He thought he'd have Takeshi drop him off and he'd go inside, but the uneasy feeling of leaving Yamamoto alone while the Bovino were out there wouldn't subside. And then there was Mukuro, who seemed to know every move he made and Yamamoto's too and Hayato had yet to figure out his angle. He couldn't very well leave Yamamoto alone, especially when he thought of the night he found him banged up in Sakura Town. It was unsettling to say the least.

But he honestly didn't feel too safe bringing Yamamoto in front of those two lunatics either.

Just as they pulled into Hayato's driveway, he took Yamamoto's hand in his and gave it a light squeeze.

"Listen, there's something I need to tell you."

Yamamoto looked perplexed, but smiled anyway. "Okay."

"My uncle... he's visiting from Italy, and he's uh... a very strict Roman Catholic. They uh... don't think too highly of... people like us. You know what I mean?"

Yamamoto nodded slowly.

"I know my sister knows, and she seems okay with it but... she won't say anything so you can't either. And you _definitely _can't touch me so freely in front of him. And don't call me Hayato... because my uncle knows that I'm not that friendly with people, you know?"

"Haha, okay, I get it. Relax, Gokudera! I won't make you feel embarrassed. Promise." He grinned reassuringly.

"You better not. Or I'll beat you up."

"Ma ma, always so cruel. Have a little faith, ne?"

"I would, if you weren't such a hopeless idiot," Hayato said with a laugh.

"So mean, haha."

"Oh and by the way... my sister is probably going to freak out when she sees me like this so... just go along with whatever story I give her. Got it?"

"Yes, yes. I got it, Go-ku-der-a," he said teasingly.

Hayato glared at him. "I'm so going to kick your ass later."

"Mm, maybe I'll have fun taking yours right after," Takeshi conceded darkly.

Hayato's face flared and he scowled. "Sh-shut up, you bastard. Don't get me looking like this before I go inside!"

"Haha, but 'Dera looks so cute like that."

"Yamamoto, I swear to God..."

"Okay, okay! Sorry, haha."

Hayato got out of the car and trudged to the front door of his house, Yamamoto following behind him. He had cleaned up best he could, but when he looked into the mirror hung askew on the dingy whitewashed walls of motel bathroom, the harsh florescent lighting was not merciful. His skin was pale and ashed, heavy dark circles wrung around his eyes and his lips were bruised and swollen. Travelling down his neck were several hickeys and bite marks that covered all of his chest and torso too. And then there were the rough and ragged lacerations on his wrists. Yamamoto had bandaged them well, but the fact was they were visible through the bloodied trails that soaked through. He hadn't thought of a story to tell Bianchi and Shamal just yet. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

He entered the house and he heard the television blaring and smelled heavy smoke lingering in the air. He hadn't even kicked off his shoes before he was bombarded by a furious Bianchi blocking his path.

"Jesus Christ, Hayato! Where the hell have you been?" she shrieked.

"Out," he muttered.

"I've been so worried about you! You've been acting so strangely this week and you disappear and I'm left to think nothing but bad thoughts! The last time you took off you ended up in a hospital with a bullet in your chest! Do you have any idea what that does to your sister?"

"Sorry." He moved down the hall, trying to avoid his sister's hot glare but the light hit him and he heard an audible gasp, loud and furious.

"What... what happened to you?! Hayato, who-"

"Oi, you noisy brats, keep it down! My stories are on," Shamal shouted from the living room.

Bianchi cast a look over Hayato's shoulder and her face screwed into an ugly expression of anger. "You!" she shouted accusingly. "Did you do this to my brother?"

Yamamoto looked to Hayato who stepped protectively in front of him. "No. Calm down." He'd try the passive approach first.

"I can't calm down! Hayato, who marked your beautiful skin like this?"

"It doesn't matter. Can you move out of my way? I really want to shower."

"Oi, oi... c'mon, what's all this ruckus about?" Shamal whined, walking into view. "Ah brat, you're home. Finally, your sister can stop nagging the shit out of me. You know, Bianchi-chan, that's not very cute."

"Go die," the siblings snapped in unison.

This caused Yamamoto to chuckle and Shamal looked over at him in amusement. "Oh Hayato, you brought a friend along."

"Yeah, this is Yamamoto Takeshi. Yamamoto, this is my uncle Shamal."

Yamamoto brushed passed Hayato and held out his hand to shake. Shamal stepped forward to take it and stopped short when he got a look at Hayato.

"Holy shit, kid. Rough night?"

Hayato let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, something like that. Now are we done here?"

"No _we_ are not done here. Fess up, Yamamoto Takeshi. Who did this to my angelic little brother?" Bianchi reached out her hands and stroked Hayato's face. He growled and moved out if her reach, finally being able to make it through the foyer. The three nuisances followed him and he felt the irritation begin to itch under his skin.

"Oh you know this guy?" Shamal asked.

"Aha, yeah... we've met once before," Yamamoto spoke up before Bianchi could. Hayato only hoped she didn't elaborate.

"So who is this guy, Hayato?" Shamal asked, taking a seat in Hayato's favorite recliner.

"Someone I work with," Hayato answered curtly.

"You haven't answered my question, Hayato," Bianchi snapped.

"And I'm not going to," he said as he walked into his bedroom. Bianchi followed and Yamamoto stood awkwardly fidgeting in the hallway between the kitchen and living room.

"Who did this to you? Are those... bandages on your wrists? Oh my God, Hayato... don't tell me you tried-"

Hayato whirled around and gripped Bianchi's shoulders. "Bianchi. I'm fine and you're being really fucking annoying so _please_ shut the fuck up."

"It was the reporter, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice still at the same high octave as when he first entered the house.

"Oh ho, Hayato! I thought those were kiss marks on you! This reporter, she must be a real good lay. She looks like she likes it rough and wild, huh Hayato?" Shamal laughed heartedly from the living room.

Yamamoto made a choking sound.

"Ugh! Shut the fuck up, Shamal. You too, sis. It's not of your fucking business what I do on my free time. I told you that when I agreed to let you stay here."

"I don't care what you told me, Hayato. Someone violated my baby brother and you've tried to kill yourself because of it! I swear, I'll kill him, Hayato. If it's him and he hurt you, you tell me and I'll kill him. I can make it look like an accident, a natural cause." Bianchi's eyes flared with fire and Hayato knew she meant what she said.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the bedroom. "Listen to me. Keep your fucking voice down! I don't need my personal life making its way back to Italy. They _will_ kill me, you know that," he said in a harsh whisper.

Bianchi scoffed. "They won't touch you if they know what's good for them. Hayato, I can't let this go," she said, cupping his chin and running her thumb along Hayato's bottom lip. "Someone did this to your face and whether you liked it or not, I can't accept this. You're too beautiful to look this ugly."

"Tch... " Hayato pulled out of her grasp and gathered his clothes. "Just drop it already. I have to go into work for five. I don't have time for this shit."

Bianchi glared at him before storming out of the room and Hayato chased after her, anxiety pooling in his gut. She walked straight up to Yamamoto and stood within an inch from his face and sneered.

"Bianchi," Hayato warned.

"Yamamoto Takeshi, you listen here. The next time you lay your hands on my beautiful little brother, you'd better check your next meal, your coffee, the water you drink and air that you breathe for traces of _me. _Because if he _ever _looks like this again, I will kill you."

"Bianchi!" Hayato intercepted and pushed her out of his way.

"Uh... I'm... sorry?" mumbled Yamamoto, rubbing the back of his head.

"Idiot, don't fucking apologize!" shouted Hayato, glaring at him.

"Oi, you noisy fucking brats... what's all that yelling about? I'm trying to watch my soap operas!"

"You can't lie to me with guilt written all over your face!" Bianchi yelled, pointing her finger in Yamamoto's face.

"Hayato, really... what the fuck is going in here?" Shamal asked, getting out of his chair and walking over to them.

"None of your fucking business, old man. Stay out of it."

_Why didn't I just let him stay in the fucking car? What an idiot..._

"Hayato, what's wrong with you? Are you some kind of masochist?" Bianchi asked seriously.

"For fuck sakes... You should go," Hayato said, turning to Yamamoto.

"Is that how this is? Are you his master? Does he beat you to get you off?"

"Bianchi! Jesus Christ! Will you seriously just shut the fuck up?! Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed I could seriously die... " Hayato groaned and took a few steps towards his bathroom.

"Hah... I'll go wait in the car, Gokudera," Yamamoto said with a dejected smile.

Shamal looked from Hayato to Yamamoto. "Wait, wait... what do you do again?" he asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

Hayato groaned again. He knew it was coming and there wasn't any way of stopping it. But he'd be damned if he didn't try.

"A guy a I work with -"

"A _reporter_," Bianchi said haughtily, turning to Shamal.

"You bitch," snarled Hayato. "He's a _sports_ _columnist._ And anyways, it's none of your business who he is, you good for nothing quack doctor."

"No, no... it _is _my business," Shamal shot back sharply.

Hayato turned to Yamamoto. "Weren't you going to wait in the car?" he asked coldly, annoyed. Things were already out of control, he didn't need Yamamoto here making it worse. He should have just made him stay in the car.

"Haha, yeah," agreed Yamamoto as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. "Hey, uh... don't forget about the time."

"Right, time. I have a five o'clock deadline to make it in to work for, and that's in less than an hour. So how about all of you fuck off and let me fucking shower for fuck sakes," Hayato ground out, hoping his offensive tone would get everyone to back off. But he should have known better. This was Bianchi and Shamal, the two largest annoyances in his life.

Yamamoto quickly hightailed out of Hayato's house and he breathed a minor sigh of relief and headed for his bathroom when Shamal suddenly grabbed on to his arm and the tenderness in them from being suspended above his head for so long was still there and it made him wince.

"Wait just a fucking minute, Hayato. You have some explaining to do." Shamal glared at him, Bianchi standing behind him with her arms folded across her chest.

"No, I don't!" Hayato growled, ripping his arm out of Shamal's tight grasp.

"You don't think I haven't put two and two together? The marks all over your body, your sister's reaction to _him_ and the fact that _he's_ a reporter? He didn't even try to deny it."

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but you're wrong whatever it is."

"Oh really? All this talk about love and a reporter and then you bring some pansy to our house -"

"My house. _My _fucking house, you bastard!" interrupted Hayato.

"Whatever," Shamal said, waving his hand and pulling out a cigarette. "You bring some pansy into your house that won't even deny or confirm your relationship."

"There is _no relationship_," Hayato insisted through clenched teeth. He pointed his finger at Bianchi who had come out from hiding behind Shamal. "This is all your fault."

"Tch." Bianchi flipped her hair back and moved towards him. "Your body is the eighth wonder of the world, Hayato. A marvelous temple that should be worshiped, not desecrated. I would never disrespect your body the way he has, dear brother." Bianchi walked around him, trailing her fingers along his shoulders and neck. "That man doesn't deserve this body. He doesn't deserve you."

"Oh, Jesus... fuck me," Hayato groaned dejectedly. "You're really sick. Get bent."

"You're both fucking sick," muttered Shamal disgustingly.

"Hm, you are too, old man. How many passes did you make at me when I was just a child? You dirty pervert," Bianchi shot back, wrapping her arms around Hayato and resting her chin in his shoulder.

Hayato flinched and moved out of her reach, growling furiously. "Don't _touch_ me!"

"Hmph... "

"Listen, you were old enough to know what you were doing when you'd flirt with your father's associates," Shamal said with a snort. "At fifteen, you were beautiful. Still are, who wouldn't be enthralled with such a sexy-"

"If you plan on living any longer, you had better shut your mouth, pervert." Bianchi narrowed her eyes. "Besides, Father asked that of me so he'd get the deals he wanted from them. I was an asset to the family and all you men loved it."

Hayato was glad the heat had been moved off him, so he tried for attempt number three to make it to his bathroom. He wasn't interested in his sister's twisted and unfortunate upbringing. It only made him want to kill his father more.

"Oi... do you think we're done here, brat?" Shamal shot, just as Hayato got to the bathroom door.

He sighed. This was never going to fucking end, was it? "I don't care, I am."

"Hn... I always thought that there must be something to wrong with you. Gorgeous, voluptuous women threw themselves at you all the time. What brat wouldn't jump on that kind of opportunity?" Shamal said with a grimace.

Hayato whipped around, eyes wide. "Those women practically raped me. Who would be okay with that, you fucking asshole?!"

"It was only rape because you're not into _that _with a woman right? You'd rather dic-"  
"Don't you fucking say it, Shamal. I swear to God, I'll put a bullet in your head."

"I'll say whatever I damn well please. I am not okay with this, you brat. It's always something with you, isn't it? Why do you always fuck everything up?"

Those words smacked Hayato hard across the face like a scorned woman. They shouldn't have hurt but they did. Coming from the one man he had any respect for, other than the tenth, made them far worse. Even in Hayato's darkest times, Shamal has never said those kinds of things to him. Those were words his father said, or his step mother or the bosses he worked for. Never Shamal.

And he couldn't stop the heat that flushed his face or the course of adrenaline that rushed through his veins because the words hurt, but Shamal's audacity made him furious. He lunged at him, grabbing onto his clothing and shoved Shamal against the wall.

"But what's worse is that you let him mark you like that? Are you his little bitch?" Shamal laughed as his back hit the wall, cigarette dropping to the floor.

"Stop it!" Bianchi shouted.

"Fuck you! You condescending, hypocritical bastard! Don't talk to me about fucking shit up! My life was fine before you two fucks came here and fucked it up! I want you out, both of you out! Go the fuck back to Italy!" Hayato screamed. He had enough, enough of everyone telling him what to do, telling him he was a fuck up, that he was no good. Enough of people putting him down for who he was and things he had no control over.

He was never going to fit in, not here or in Italy, he'd always be different no matter where he went. Everything about him was foreign; Eyes too green to be Japanese, too slanted to be Italian. Skin too yellow to be Italian, too fair to be Japanese. He was too alien for either world, from his hair to his gait to his sexuality. There was no place for Hayato but none of it mattered now. He had the Tenth and someone who loved him for everything that he was. He didn't need these walking contradictions telling him that he was fucked up when they were just as messed up.

"What about the Bovino?" leered Shamal.

"What about them?" Hayato seethed.

"Hayato, they're coming to kill me!" cried Bianchi.

Hayato released his grip on Shamal's shirt and whipped around to face Bianchi, locking straight in to eyes that were much like his own.

"Good fucking riddance then," Hayato said icily.

And with that he left his family speechless and entered the bathroom.

* * *

The shower was relaxing but painful. The scalding water worked out the knots and anxiety tightening his muscles but stung and burned the open wounds on his flesh. Getting dressed was a daunting task, his arms were still sore and numb and his the rest of his body felt just as bad. Still, he was lucky the weather was nearing winter and today was particularly cold so he'd be able to cover his marks with a scarf and jacket.

His house was silent now; there was no television going, no radio, nor annoying banter. Just eerie silence.

Well, Hayato liked it that way.

The door was closed to the guest room and she wasn't in the living room reading her usual magazines. He didn't care if his sister was hurt, quite frankly he was fed up with her touching him so freely, invading his personal space and making those disgustingly lewd comments towards him. There was never a moment where he wished he could be inside her head to know what she was thinking about, the gears inside her brain that motioned thoughts of sexual relations with her own brother. He just wanted it to stop, just wanted to not feel uncomfortable all the time. This was _his _house, his sanctuary and he wanted it to be peaceful and free of sisters with narcissistic brother complexes.

As for Shamal, any respect he had for that man had been completely disintegrated once he started that argument. The things he said couldn't be taken back. Hayato didn't want to take them back. He wanted that bastard to stop pretending he actually gave a shit, just like his father had once his mother died and fuck back off to Italy. There he could go shove his head further up his father's ass and Hayato would finally be done with Italy and the mafia. He could just close that chapter of his life off and happily set things up here in Japan and continue being a cop, being in Tsuna's company and finally, being with someone he actually _wanted _to be with.

He liked the sound of that future far better than a future in a place surrounded by people he hated covered in blood and sin. Not that he didn't have enough sin piled up against him already, he just didn't need to add to it when he so desperately wanted to sort his shit out and just repent by serving his time as a pure human being.

Passing the kitchen, he saw Shamal standing at the counter drinking his whiskey straight from the bottle and smoking a cigarette.

"You didn't mean what you said to your sister, did you?" he called as Hayato put on his shoes. He checked his watch and it was nearly five. He didn't have time to argue or have a heartfelt talk about love and rainbows and feelings.

"Every fucking word, and the same goes for you," he said coldly just loud enough for Shamal to hear. He stood and just as he headed for the door, Shamal called out to him again.

"Your father will find out about all of this and he'll never accept it. You'll probably end up dead, you stupid brat."

Hayato paused, seemingly giving Shamal's words considerable thought but in reality he didn't care. He didn't care about any of it anymore. He had people here that lived him, wanted him and _accepted _him for all that he was, faults and everything else in between. Once these bastards were gone, Italy would be nothing but a distant memory.

"I don't give a fuck," Hayato snarled as he walked through the door, slamming it so hard that it nearly came off the hinges. He walked down to the driveway and was relieved to see Yamamoto, still sitting there in that forest green shitbox he had for a car. His face lit up and he grinned as Hayato walked to his side of the car.

He swung open the passenger side door and dived in, knees bent on the passenger seat. He grabbed onto Yamamoto's shirt, muffling his surprised questions with his lips pressed hard against his mouth. He swallowed his protests with the flick of his tongue, flashing it across Yamamoto's teeth and palate. Yamamoto was responsive but tentative, and he struggled to break free from Hayato. And unguarded just for a moment when Yamamoto slid his hand down his spine and into his pants, he stiffened and gave Yamamoto the opportunity to freak out.

"Gokudera! What are you doing?"

"Kissing you, idiot. What does it fucking look like?" He straddled Yamamoto's lap, the steering wheel hitting him hard in the hip but he barely felt the pain.

Yamamoto looked up at him, eyes wide. "B-but we're in front of your house!"

"So?" Hayato tightened his grip on Yamamoto's shirt and bit down on his collar bone through the cotton fabric.

"S-someone will... will s-see."

Hayato licked a hard stripe up Yamamoto's neck and felt him shiver. "Since when have you cared?" he whispered in his ear.

Yamamoto's hands were pushing at him as Hayato continued his assault, biting and licking and grinding. Now was a definite time, a good of a place as anywhere, for him to release his frustrations.

"Go-Gokudera, stop! Someone will... see!"

"I don't care," he said as he bit down on Yamamoto's earlobe. And he truly didn't, he didn't care if Shamal was watching or Mukuro's survailence team or his sister of his fucking nosey neighbours. He wanted Yamamoto, he wanted to feel calm and a cigarette just wouldn't do.

"B-but..."

"Takeshi... I want you. I_ need _you," Hayato urged. He didn't care what he sounded like, didn't care how vulnerable he felt.

"No... not here... Stop, Goku..."

"Your body wants me. See?" Hayato grinded his hips down on Yamamoto's erection for emphasis. "You say no but your body says yes. Just stop resisting already." Hayato grabbed Yamamoto's wrists and tried to keep him from pushing him away but Yamamoto was stronger than he was.

"Gokudera, stop! You'll regret this later, you know!"

Hayato grabbed Yamamoto's hand and slipped it into his pants. "You want me, then? You can fuck me then, I don't care. I need this, Yamamoto."

Yamamoto sighed frustratingly and finally succeeded in pushing Hayato back into his seat forcefully.

"Fuck you," Hayato growled. "I get it, it's only good enough when _you_ want it. _I'm _only good enough when you want it." He fumbled for his cigarettes in his jacket pocket, adrenaline still keeping him high and making his hands was so embarassing, he couldn't even look Yamamoto in the face. Such a wanton display of himself to only be rejected. So foolish of him to even think that he was worth anything to Yamamoto.

"Hayato, look at me."

He turned his head and lit his smoke. "What the fuck do you want? Just drive me to work, you bastard. I don't want to talk to you."

Yamamoto shot him an angry glare, it looked so unnatural on his face. "It's not like that and you know it. I told you I love you and while doing it in the car is a really erotic idea, if anyone sees us they can use it against you for whatever reason. Do you really want that? Because I don't. I don't want you to hate me for that."

Hayato's cigarette nearly dropped from his mouth as his jaw slacked slightly. How could this blatant and obvious idiot make such a good point that it made Hayato blush with embarrassment that he had been blinded by his dick instead of using his head. For someone as logical as Hayato to be proven wrong by such an idiot really made him infuriated.

And okay, maybe Yamamoto did love him and he had just thought he could make him bend to his will, but he was also glad that Yamamoto could be sensible when he needed to be.

"Idiot... just drive me to work," he repeated. "I'm already late."

_i can't believe i practically begged for this bastard..._

"Hayato, I'm sorry."

_Fuck, I really hate him._

"Shut up."

"Are you arlight?"

_But he makes me like him. Love him. Whatever this fucking thing is, I'm addicted._

Hayato growled. "Yes, god dammit. Shut up."

Yamamoto put the car in drive. "How'd it go inside?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hayato muttered.

"I love you, you know."

_I'm already wasted on your love, you idiot._

"Fuck you."

"Are you sure you're not mad at me?"

"Of course I'm mad at you, you made me look like an idiot. Just stop fucking talking already."

_You always make me look like an idiot... And you're an idiot. Two idiots, stupidly in love. I guess it can't be helped then, can it? _

He took a long drag of his cigarette, lost in his thoughts and Yamamoto fell silent and stayed that way until they reached the precinct.

Finally, some absolute peace and fucking quiet.

* * *

**Author's Note :**

So Hayato is a little mushy and fluffy and OOC (in my opinion) in this chapter, but I don't care. He needed to be. Also, if there's any mistakes you notice, all my fics are unbeta'd and I am pretty lazy at editing myself. I also write these chapters on my cell before uploading them, and my auto correct has conspired to make me look like an idiot. So, that's what happened there.

As always, reviews and comments would be lovely! Really would love to hear your thoughts and opinions on the fic so far!


	19. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XIX

_**Chapter XIX**_

* * *

**WARNING : **

About the middle of the chapter will begin a slight smut 6959 scene. Nothing to provocative but if you're sensitive to your OTP's being paired with another, then heed the warning. It's short and doesn't last the whole chapter so if you manage to skim through, continue reading afterwards.

If you're not sensitive to the issue, please enjoy! Comments are always welcomed! x

* * *

"Do you need me to wait for you?"

Hayato looked back at Yamamoto and scowled. "I already told you I'd call you if I need you."

Yamamoto smiled sheepishly. "Okay... I'll see you soon. Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. It just wasn't a good time for that. You know that I love you right?"

Hayato felt the burn in his face and the tightening in his chest, the sour taste of rejection thick on his tongue. "Go die," he grumbled.

Yamamoto laughed and Hayato rolled his eyes at how oblivious the idiot was to when Hayato was being serious.

"Ne, Hayato... don't lose your cool, okay?"

Hayato's scowl deepened. "Che... don't tell me what to do, idiot." He slammed the car door shut and didn't look back.

Regardless of the atmosphere on the drive to the precinct and the countless times Yamamoto told him 'I love you', being rejected by him after practically throwing himself at Yamamoto still made him feel bitter. He was more or less embarrassed and was angry with himself because he did that, and also because Yamamoto had him feeling like... well, a girl. A girl in the sense that he got flustered when Yamamoto was around, upset when he didn't get attention from Yamamoto and having these stupid fluttering feelings inside his stomach and heart whenever they kissed. Hayato really did hate that feeling and was really starting to hate the fact that Yamamoto made him act like an idiot.

Hayato walked down the cracked sidewalk to the precinct because he wouldn't let Yamamoto park in front of it. He didn't need to add more fuel to the all the assholes and their stupid ideas. The cops that would take one look at Yamamoto and his car and start all kinds of nasty rumors. It was honestly like being in highschool with a bunch of teenage girls who loved to gossip.

The sun had began to sink below the city line, dusting the sky in pink and orange. It made Namimori Middle District look pretty almost, aside from its usual dirty and desolate appearance. And even though this city was awful, corrupt and neglected, this would always be home. This was a place he had roots in, not Italy. He had good memories here, memories of him and Tsuna and other people he had met along the way. He could never see himself going back to a place he hated so much, a place where nothing but bad memories left a definite sour taste in his mouth and a nauseating feeling in his gut.

Speaking of nauseating, he had to see Mukuro and actually attempt to remain civil. It was going to be difficult since he was already in a bad mood and the walk through the pen wasn't going to put him in a better one.

Hayato opened the door to the precinct and stepped through the threshold and awkwardly enough, the beat cops that were on the floor stopped and stared. Of course some of them sneered and some of them whispered, but Hayato is a man with pride, even if at times it's false pride. He's good at fabricating things when he needs to be, it's his number one defense mechanism aside from his explosive anger trait.

He cleared his throat and walked through the metal detector and up to the front desk where Tetsuga Yato was stationed. His back had been facing Hayato until he had cleared his throat and when he turned and saw Hayato, Tetsu greeted him with a warm smile.

"Yo, Gokudera. Didn't think I'd see ya around anytime soon. What's been going on?"

Taken aback, Hayato flushed a little and couldn't find the words to speak. He just signed in and before he left the desk, Tetsu called out to him.

"Hey, you know, Gokudera... I heard about you. Hell... the whole station has. But hey, that don't matter to me, yer still a good guy and a bad ass cop in my books."

Abashed, Hayato turned away to hide the redness that stained his face. "Th-thanks," he stuttered.

"Just, ya know... I'm cool with it and all 'cause it's yer life and yer business but... I'm not that way, so don't be hittin' on me and things'll be good."

This kind of stupid comment might have gotten an officer punched in the face had it been said by anyone else but Tetsuga. Even before his secret came out, when Hayato was hated for just being him; good cop but an outsider, a foreign interloper. But Tetsuga had always been a decent man, respectful and entertaining to talk to. He was a good man and was a good officer in his prime and Hayato had a lot of respect for him.

Hayato looked over at him and smirked. "Please. The day I find someone attractive with a mug as ugly as yours is a day I'll have to commit seppuku."

Tetsuga barked out a hearty laugh. "Good one, good one! Except yer no samurai, there ain't no honorable death for you, my friend."

Hayato laughed dryly. "No... there isn't. But we're all sinners and going to hell anyways, aren't we? What good is an honorable death?"

"Heh, you were the one that brought it up in the first place, ya fool."

"Che, isn't there some work you should be doing, old man? You'd better be careful or the Tenth will have you replaced with a younger and not so ugly looking idiot."

Tetsu agreed and Hayato walked away laughing. He was glad the one person that he had any respect for, other than Tsuna, wasn't someone as narrow minded as the rest of the cops in the precinct. The ones who, as he passed by them on the way to the conference room, leered and snickered or called out _fag_ hidden in forced coughs. So childish and immature and Hayato wondered how these men had job titles worthy of respect from civilians or even wives or friends.

Once reaching the conference room, Hayato paused in front of the door. He was nervous but only because he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep calm. Mukuro had a talent of getting under Hayato's skin and scratching at the surface until it became an itch he could no longer tolerate.

He drew in a breath and exhaled it and opened the door.

Mukuro sat alone at the head of the conference table; gloved hands folded, fingers tented and pressed against his lips. His blue tail curved around his shoulder, a few strands fanned out on his black trench coat.

"You're late," he said coldly. It was a tone Hayato had yet to hear from the man since he was always so irritatingly sly and playful.

"I had some things I needed to take care of. You should know that since you've been following me,'" Hayato remarked, entering the room and shutting the door behind him.

Mukuro smirked. "I don't follow you, Gokudera Hayato. I have my ways of knowing where you are and if I really want to know, what you're doing as well. Now... what are we going to do about this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. The red eye gleamed visciously.

"About what?" asked Hayato, suddenly feeling anxiety slither its way through his stomach. He planted his feet to the linoleum tile.

"Well... I'm a very precise man, a perfectionist of sorts. I like things done the way I want them done when I want them done. I told you to be here by five and now it's almost six. I don't like to be kept waiting."

Hayato scowled. How this particular man could get under his skin was unbelievable, even the slightest smirk made Hayato grimace. "I didn't come here to play with you, Rokudo."

Mukuro sighed and set his hands down table, pushing his chair out. He got up and Hayato couldn't help but stare at the provacative and graceful way Mukuro walked over to him. He stopped in front of Hayato and Hayato couldn't stop his eyes from trailing up his slender neck and resting on plush lips that curled into a smirk. He felt himself gulp, suddenly transfixed by Mukuro's beauty.

When Hayato had first met with Mukuro he had thought the man was attractive despite the feeling he got in his gut whenever he was near Mukuro. There was something magnetic to Mukuro too, like he wasn't all that he seemed and puzzles have always fascinated Hayato. He was enigmatic in the same way Yamamoto was-

_Yamamoto... what would he say if he knew I was thinking about someone else like this__?_

Mukuro lifted a hand and placed it beside Hayato's head and his other hand he pressed against the door beside Hayato's hip, caging him in.

"Gokudera Hayato," he began, leaning in close. An eerie grin spread across his pale face. "I am the puppet master in this little game. If I want you to play with me, you'll comply."

"Are... are you fucking nuts? What are you doing?" asked Hayato, his heart thudding hard beneath his rib cage.

"Kufufu, having a little fun... You really are as beautiful as they say. Such an exotic and interesting look to you," Mukuro taunted. He put his lips to Hayato's ear and whispered one thing that made his heart stop. "_Luciano._"

Hayato went rigid. No one here knew his name or who he was and there was _no possible way _Mukuro could have found out, even if he was a bureau agent. Shamal had taken care of all that when he moved here in the first place. Luciano Filippi was untraceable because he didn't exist anymore.

"H-how d-do you-"

Mukuro twirled a lock of Hayato's silver hair around his finger, tugging on the strand gently and grinning shrewdly. "I know everything there is to know about you, Hurricane Bomb. There's no end to my knowledge and there is nothing I can't reach. Do you understand that, Luciano Filippi? It's one more way of getting the things I want and right now I want you."

Hayato's heart skipped a beat. He was mesmerized somehow, unable to move or even speak. What was with this sudden interest Mukuro had in him? How was it that he knew about a past Hayato had desperately tried hiding? There were things about his life in Italy that Tsuna didn't even know. The fact that this moment had nothing to do with him _actually _getting his job back confused him as to why he was really here. He needed a moment to just think this out, but there wasn't the time and space he needed to do so because Mukuro had him under some sort of hypnotism where he couldn't even think enough to realize the situation he was in.

He couldn't figure out Mukuro's angle and until he could, he had to keep his mouth shut until he was back in.

Mukuro took his hand off the door from beside Hayato's head and traced his index finger along Hayato's jawline. "So, as I was saying... How are you going to make up for your tardiness, Gokudera Hayato? Kufufufu."

Hayato opened his mouth and tried speaking but no sound came out. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure Mukuro could hear it being as close as he was.

"Oya, no suggestions? Not even an objection? Kufufu. You truly are a loyal mutt, aren't you?" Mukuro slid his leather clad thumb Hayato's chin and swiped it slowly over his lips.

"I... I have an o-objection, you fucker. Get your filthy hands off me."

"Kufufu. You don't sound very convincing, Gokudera Hayato. I can hear your heart pounding. Oya, are you that excited? Or are you scared? Which one is it?"

Again, all Hayato could do was stare up at Mukuro, wide eyed and still. It was like he was a deer caught in headlights, unable to move and scared shitless. He was absolutely scared, strangely. He was fully aware that this wasn't the only side to Mukuro. There was also a dark side, but it wasn't anything like Yamamoto's. Mukuro's was dangerous, lethal... evil.

"Neither! Listen here, you pineapple fuck. If you aren't going good to give me my job back, release me so I can get the fuck out of here. Weren't you taught about sexual harassment in the workplace?" Hayato used a smirk to cover up the tremor in his voice.

"Kahahaha! Sexual harassment? Is that what you think this is? I am a man who gets what I want, Gokudera Hayato. Everything you do from here on out _will_ be consensual."

Hayato's heart stopped and he looked up at Mukuro with eyes as wide as saucers. He felt like a small animal under the predatory gaze of a carnivore being sized up for a meal. His stomach was in knots and his mind was racing. He couldn't understand this feeling of docility.

Mukuro rested a finger under Hayato's chin and tilted it upwards. "Oya, seems to me like you are interested... Deep down, that's all that really matters to you, isn't it?"

Hayato felt heat spread quickly across his face and up to the tips of his ears. He tried speaking but he was too flustered and all he managed to do was stutter.

"I-I'm n-not," he protested. He was lying though, he knew it. He tried hard to convince himself otherwise but the heat of Mukuro's breath hitting his ear and the soft caress of his gloved fingers on his skin was definitely sending currents of electricity down his spine and a tingling that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Oya?" asked Mukuro coyly. He brought his face within millimeters of Hayato's.

His heart resumed palpitation, hard and fast. He felt Mukuro's left hand slide across his hip and abdomen to rest on the buckle of his belt. Mukuro lips brushed against his and Hayato felt his synapses snap. Mukuro's lips were warm and soft, nothing like Hayato would have imagined coming from such a slimy bastard.

"You're just a little trollop, Gokudera Hayato."

Being only able to form partial words and sentences, Hayato stuttered helplessly as Mukuro plucked the scarf from around his neck and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. He roamed his other hand across Hayato's ribs and chest and finally curled it over his throat.

"Ah, already marked I see," Mukuro mused, pressing his thumb into side of his neck. "Well, we'll just have to do something about that too. Kufufu."

"N-no... don't t-touch me," Hayato complained. His breath was shallow and his demand went unnoticed as Mukuro leaned in and mouthed over the freshly surfaced hickeys and bruise left by Yamamoto's teeth on his neck. Instantly his skin prickled and a nauseating heat bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted it partially and he was undeniably ashamed to admit it. There was still a lot of residual tension and bitterness he felt from the earlier events of the day and the only way Hayato knew how to ease it was through his most familiar method. It was absurd to even think it, but the way Mukuro worked his mouth over his skin and the sensual caress of his hand on his chest had Hayato enamored by it all.

"Your skin tastes delicious," Mukuro hummed.

Hayato felt the acidic bile burn its way up his throat and over his tongue.

Mukuro was tenative and all Hayato could to was squeeze his eyes shut and allow Mukuro to continue. Somehow he had become bewitched by this conniving and manipulative snake and somewhere in the back of his lust addled brain, he knew it was wrong but he couldn't deny that on some level this felt good too.

He felt the heat of Mukuro's tongue sliding up his neck and mouth closing over his earlobe. He heard the clacking sound his earring made on contact with Mukuro's teeth. A shallow groan erupted from his throat and his face flared with the embarrassment. His body betrayed the silent protests his mind was screaming. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stand on his unsteady legs as he became entirely jelly-limbed and dizzy with overwhelming aphrodisia.

Mukuro's hand slipped between his abdomen and his slacks and Hayato stiffened, some shock of reality jarring him out of his momentary daze.

"D-don't," he murmured but even he could hear how unpersuasive his voice sounded.

"If you want your job back, you'll be a good little dog and listen to your master," Mukuro whispered harshly in his ear. Hayato shuddered.

This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. For the first time in his life, Hayato felt such a raw vulnerability, so confined within himself that he began to loathe everything he had become. He had been fine with it, these kinds of acts came naturally to him but here and now... it wasn't something he could be alright with. Too many times recently has this weakness been used against him and it made him hate everything he was. His job was important to him, it was his very livelihood and Mukuro was using that knowledge to seduce him into a situation he wasn't the slightest bit comfortable with. Yet, he couldn't stop it, even if he wanted to because Mukuro's hold on him was riveting.

Hayato fell silent and Mukuro sank his teeth into his flesh, over a mark he knew had been left by Takeshi and he gasped, except it sounded more like a moan than anything else. Mukuro chuckled and kneaded his teeth over the previous kiss mark. He slipped past Hayato's flimsy silk boxers and his leathered hand wrapped around his treacherous cock. In a fluid movement, graceful just like his gait, Mukuro began to stroke evenly as his tongue lapped over fresh bite marks on his neck.

Hayato dug his fingernails into the soft wooden door to the conference room and silently prayed for some sort of intervention and all in the same prayer declared to God how sinfully good this felt.

Mukuro turned and flicked his wrist with ease, slowly and sternly and Hayato felt the euphoria ballooning under his rib cage and oh god, how could something so vile and damnable feel so incredible?

Hayato's brain became hazy. It was if a spider had spun it's silken webs from every crevice of his mind creating a blockade for logical thought. Instead he was left with only sensation and what a damn good sensation it was. Yet at the same time, it felt wrong and dirty and sickening. He resented the way his pelvis bucked forward and his back arched. He abhorred the parting of his lips and the sounds that flew out of them. He detested the nauseating heat that pooled in his belly, one of contaminated lust and disgusting pleasure. He's never despised himself so much in one moment as he did right now.

He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole so that he could plummet to the one and only destination he belonged. Hell.

Hayato had come to the conclusion that he had been completely possessed by Rokudo Mukuro.

And just as he was about to have the most humiliating and morally wrong climax of his entire life, his prayer for an intervention had been answered and Mukuro broke the lust heavy silence.

"Does your lover touch you like this, Gokudera Hayato? Being so lewd and easy, he can't be that satisfying for you. Kufufu."

His lover.

His _lover_.

_His lover, Yamamoto Takeshi._

_I'm so sorry, Yamamoto... I'm so sorry I'm doing this. _

Hayato worked the concession like a mantra, feeling so hurt and broken and defenseless. Feeling nothing but regret and crying shamefully inward. He has never felt this way about anything or anyone, he knows now that what he feels for Yamamoto is love because this ignominious pleasure came with nothing but guilt and remorse and too high of a price. He didn't want to lose Yamamoto over something like this and the more he thought about it, losing him was worse than losing his pride and dignity because he was willing to give those up to have his job back. It wasn't like he'd been degraded like that before but he refused to have to face Yamamoto after doing something so revolting with another man, especially Mukuro.

This wasn't fun aymore, it wasn't the least bit enticing. Mukuro may have something over him and something to use against him but there was nothing he could do about the way Hayato felt for Yamamoto. After everything they had been through in such a short time, Hayato trusted him wholeheartedly and had given all of himself to Yamamoto. He couldn't fathom doing the same for such an insidious and selfish bastard like Mukuro who preyed on his weaknesses for God only knew why. He needed to break this ridiculous spell and the more he thought of Yamamoto and the emotions that went along with loving him, the less his body responded to Mukuro and he noticed.

"Oya? Kufufufufu!" Mukuro pulled back and quirked his mouth smugly. "Experiencing some erectile difficulties, Gokudera Hayato? I would have never thought a man of your reputation would have no problem in this department."

The fog in his mind had cleared and he was coming around to his senses, the ones that made him think rationally and logically and he was finally able to lift his arms, despite them feeling like they were encased in cement. He set his palms on either side of Mukuro's chest and diligently shoved Mukuro backward.

Mukuro laughed as he stumbled back. He stood, regained composure and leered at Hayato. "Kahahaha! I guess I shouldn't have mentioned that idiotic reporter," he said, wiping spit shine off his lips with a swipe of his thumb. "I wonder what he'll do when he sees the marks I've left on you, kufufu."

Hayato knew he couldn't hide them, _wouldn't _hide them but how could he tell Yamamoto what had happened honestly and expect him to believe that he didn't have a part in it? That he didn't want what Mukuro did to him but how was he supposed to expect Yamamoto to trust him after the last night at the motel? And just what kind of Yamamoto would he have to deal with once he told him? Hayato didn't know the answers to any of these and he had no idea how to explain it to him. His chest clenched tightly at the thought of the hurt that would pass through those bright, hazel eyes.

"You..." Hayato took a deep breath, blinking several times to make sure he was back to reality and that what just happened wasn't going to happen again. He refused to be taken in by the magic of Rokudo Mukuro. He had Yamamoto and that was all he needed. It was all he _wanted _and to avoid becoming enticed by him again, Hayato needed to be honest about the way he felt for Yamamoto. He had to admit to himself that he was indeed, without a doubt, in love with him.

"You can take this job and shove it up your ass, pineapple freak! It's not worth it if I have to constantly resist the urge to kill you!"

Mukuro narrowed his eyes. "I do recall telling you I always get what I want, Gokudera Hayato. Perhaps that's you, or perhaps it's your boss or something else entirely but whatever it is _I will have it_."

"Go die," Hayato offered through gritted teeth while he resisted the urge to deck the pineapple fuck who made him feel disgusting. He clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug painfully into his palms.

"Kufufu, back to normal already I see. Well, that's fine. They'll be plenty of time soon enough." Mukuro walked around the conference table and sat back in his seat.

Hayato was perplexed. Plenty of time soon enough... He knew there was something behind Mukuro's choice of words but his brain was still slightly muddled and he wasn't able. to decipher it.

And does he honestly think Hayato would allow progression of this kind of thing? How this slithering bastard thought there would be a second chance for him to trap Hayato like that was inconceivable. There would never be a second time, Hayato would make sure of it. His heart and body belonged to only one person and he was determined to keep what little. dignity he had left. There would never be another time that he'd fall victim to Rokudo Mukuro's violations.

So he scoffed and sneered. "Ha! Fat chance, you fucking pineapple fairy fuck. Touch me like that again and I'll -"

Mukuro's head snapped up and his red eye flared intensely. His eyes were narrowed slits and his nostrils flared. "And you'll what, Luciano Filippi? Beat me up? Blow me up? Kahahaha! You're ridiculous. You and I both know the reaction you had just moments ago is a reaction your body has to me because it _likes _being touched by me. The body doesn't lie."

Hayato tried to remain calm and not edge this further. He couldn't have Mukuro calling him Luciano and he definitely couldn't have him talking about what had just happened. "Look," he began, strained and still through gritted teeth. "I came here to talk about work. Obviously that was just a ploy, so if you've got nothing else to say I'm fucking leaving."

Mukuro was silent and studied him. When over a minute of silence passed between them, Hayato turned on his heel and moved to open the door.

"Wait."

Hayato turned back, sighing heavily. "What the fuck?"

"I told you before I pulled some strings and got you back on the case, correct?"

Hayato was blown away. He had said that, hadn't he? Back at the motel. So how come he had suddenly forgot it when Mukuro tried advancing on him?

He growled. "You fucker! Taking-"

"I have something you might be interested in, kufufu."

Somewhat intrigued, Hayato took a fee steps forward from the door. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, last night there was another murder. The work of this so called samurai. Another victim was found just outside Sakura Town at around three this morning. We've managed to make an ID and he's also a member of the yakuza. This brings the body count up to _nine _victims. The killer has managed to evade us at every turn."

A malicious grin spread its way across Mukuro's face and Hayato couldn't understand why he looked so amused.

He reached into the inside of his trench coat and pulled out something, setting it on the table.

Hayato squinted his eyes and could only see that it was a small clear plastic bag folded over the item inside. There was red evidence tape at the top of the bag and Hayato wondered why Mukuro had evidence on his person and not locked up in the evidence lockers.

"What is that and why do you have it?" Hayato demanded, taking another tentative step forward.

"Oya? Curious, are we? Come a little closer, I promise to behave," Mukuro said with a shit eating grin.

Despite being wary of the sly and treacherous pineapple fuck, Hayato's curiosity got the better of him. It was a dangerous thing, after all.

He reached out and took the bag in his hands, rolling it around and inspecting it. Once he clearly saw what was in the bag, he froze.

There was a pair of thick and squared, black framed glasses bent and broken with both lenses cracked inside the evidence bag. Instantly he thought of Takeshi and his glasses and since Hayato is effortlessly brilliant, right away he recalled that the night before _and _this morning Yamamoto wasn't wearing his glasses.

He wasn't about to say anything to this fucker though.

"Remind you of someone?" Mukuro asked, leading.

Hayato snorted. "No? They're a generic pair of broken glasses. Should it remind me of someone?"

Mukuro eyed him suspiciously. "Those were found at the crime scene, under the headless body."

Hayato's blood iced over in his veins and suddenly his body was cold. He needed to hide his shock better than he was, he couldn't let Mukuro see through his facade.

"That's great," he said thickly. "A clue to the killer? Have they been through forensics yet?" Hayato's stomach churned violently.

A wide and baleful grin spread slowly across Mukuro's pale skin, his heterochromatic eyes sparkled with sinister glee. "No, they haven't. Wouldn't you mind carrying them down to Hibari Kyoya for me? He isn't too fond of me, kufufu."

Hayato scoffed. "There isn't a single person that would be fond of a snake like you."

"Oya? But... weren't you one of them just a moment ago? Moaning and rubbing your delectable body against mine like a cat in heat, you can't convince me otherwise. Kufufu."

Hayato flushed vermilion. He wanted to kill himself. He loathed himself and even more so, this bastard.

"Fuck you," Hayato growled.

"Kufufufu! Well, that's what I was getting to before you so rudely put a stop to it." Mukuro set his chin in his palm. "Now, what will you do with those glasses, Luciano?"

A low and guttural noise made its way out of Hayato's mouth. "It's Gokudera Hayato," he snarled. "And I'll be taking this to forensics, naturally."

Was this a test? To see if he could choose to do the right thing between his personal life and his career life? No, that couldn't be it. There had to be a reason as to why Mukuro showed him these glasses. They looked a lot like Yamamoto's and the fact that Hayato hasn't seen him wearing them in two days was unsettling.

"Where is my partner? I'd like to discuss the details of the case in terms of where it is presently. There's a lot of information I need to catch up on."

Mukuro looked at him with an expression of some sort of strange admiration. "Your partner requested to be moved to a different case. He took it pretty hard when you broke his nose and asked that he not have anything to do with you. You'll be working with me, kufu."

Hayato suppressed the overwhelming want to vomit. There's no way he could make it through a day working alongside this pineapple fucking slithering bastard.

"Well then give me the case files to take home so that I can inform myself," Hayato said curtly.

"Will your lover be a problem?" asked Mukuro, playfully.

"He isn't my lover and no, he won't be a problem. Just mind your god damned business. Where is the Tenth?"

"Kufufu. Oh he and Hibari Kyoya have been working hard on sifting through the members of the _Hakai_ _Dīrā_. I've brought in an associate of mine, Kakimoto Chikusa, the head of the Gang and Narcotics Unit from the Tokyo Division. He's been working with your precious Tenth to identify the victims."

Hayato was indifferent when it came to Ryohei. If he was going to be _that _kind of asshole, then so be it.

"What about these glasses, why'd you show them to me?"

"I thought perhaps you'd might recognize them and could tell me their owner, but I assumed wrong. My apologies, _Gokudera Hayato._"

Hayato nodded. It was definitely a test. He wasn't sure if Mukuro knew they belonged to Yamamoto or not. Perhaps they had already gone through forensics and he already knew who they belonged to. The unnerving fact was _how _he knew they were Yamamoto's - if they were Yamamoto's at all - and why he wasn't telling Hayato about it. There was something to this gesture and Hayato couldn't figure it out. It made him sick with worry and slightly enraged that Yamamoto was involved somehow and that he was being lied to. He just had to do his own investigation, after he finished looking into Mukuro, if he was able to.

The gears in his brain worked furiously and too many hypothetical scenarios came into mind and he wasn't able to think properly. He needed to do one thing at a time but he also knew that the situation regarding Yamamoto would lay heavily on his mind until he was reassured otherwise.

Mukuro cleared his throat. "Well, I've already wasted enough of my time here." He stood and lifted a briefcase from beside his feet and set it on the table. He opened it and pulled out several Manila folders.

"These are the individual files for each crime scene, complete with photos, autopsy reports and tox screenings. We've managed an ID on four of the prior victims as well as Sasagawa's informant and the man you shot. They've been considered related to the "samurai" case due to the use of etorphine on each victim. Each tox screen revealed the etorphine used all had the same synthetic make up. Look over the files and I expect you back here by nine in the morning."

Hayato nodded once more, absorbing all the information and plugging it in to the formulas he had already formed in his head. He could respect this professional side of Mukuro had he not known there was definitely a hidden agenda behind his being here. Hayato just hadn't figured it out yet. The epiphany however, would most likely come after some information was revealed about Mukuro's past.

He took the files from Mukuro without a word, knowing that anything he said would provoke Mukuro in a negative way and he'd never be able to be free of this personal hell he was currently in.

Mukuro took out a heavy silvery object coupled with a gold object and set them down on the table with a hollow _thunk. _"Your gun and your badge," he offered flatly. It was odd to hear that tone of voice coming from Mukuro's mouth.

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Kufufu, you might want to replace your scarf. I myself really don't mind, but perhaps you'd want to keep this a secret from Yamamoto Takeshi. Telling him will only create unnecessary drama here in the workplace. We wouldn't want him making a scene and having you suspended again, would we? Kufufu."

Hayato's face fired up once more as he recalled the heat of Mukuro's mouth and the gentle snag of his teeth on his flesh. He shuddered and shook his head violently, hoping to erase the sensory data and imagery from his mind.

Growling, he picked up his discarded black scarf off the floor and wrapped it around his neck and self consciously pulling his leather jacket tighter over his chest. He checked the maroon dress shirt he wore for any wrinkles or popped buttons and noticed his shirt had been untucked. His tie was also askew and his belt buckle was loose. Groaning frustratingly while Mukuro chuckled, he adjusted himself appropriately and hurriedly left the conference room.

He hit Yamamoto's number on speed dial and mumbled a harsh, "Come get me." into the receiving end of his cell phone and hung up before he heard Yamamoto's cheerful voice. He raced down the stairs to the pen and straight past Tetsu, ignoring his call.

Once outside, the sickening feeling that had been stewing deep in Hayato's stomach rushed over him in a hard nauseating wave that crashed into him with such a force it knocked him to his knees. He wretched violently, spilling his stomach contents over the pavement in front of the station.

By the time he was finished his throat was raw and his stomach ached painfully. He wiped the tears from his cheeks with the heel of his hand and the spittle from his lips with the back of his other. He hated himself so much, he was so disgusted with himself and the anxiety of facing Yamamoto grew and grew until he was threatened with the sensation of throwing up yet again even though there was nothing left to disgorge.

He heard the familiar rev of an engine and looked up to see the headlights of Yamamoto's green shitbox. He wished for nothing more than his own car in this moment, he had no idea how he was going to face Yamamoto.

He stood shakily before Yamamoto could get out of the car and see the mess he had made on the ground. He crossed the parking lot and headed for Yamamoto's car, folders in hand along with his gun and badge. Yamamoto got out of the car with a large grin and still no glasses and hurried over to open Hayato's door.

"Get back in the fucking car, idiot," he snapped. He hadn't meant to sound that harsh but he has never been one to direct his anger properly.

Yamamoto stopped short and frowned dejectedly. "O-okay." He turned and got back in the driver's seat while Hayato entered the passenger side.

Hayato set the folders on the back seat and clipped his badge to his belt. He placed his gun in the glove compartment until he was able to get back home and retrieve his holster. Yamamoto watched him without a word and started up the car when he was finished. They drove out of the parking lot and headed to their destination, Irie Soichi's place, Hayato guessed.

He still felt nauseated and dirty and wanted nothing more than to go home and take a shower despite the nuisances residing in his house. But he couldn't, getting information on Mukuro was imperative and needed to be done as son as possible.

Through his peripheral vision, he could see Yamamoto glancing at him worriedly every few seconds until Hayato lashed out and snapped, "Keep your fucking eyes on the road, moron."

Yamamoto bit his lip and looked back out the windshield and they continued their drive in silence.

Hayato closed his eyes and internally fought the war he was having with himself. On the one hand, Hayato wanted to tell Yamamoto everything and let him know that he was truly and deeply remorseful for what ensued earlier and the fact that he had partially enjoyed it in the beginning. On the other, the words Mukuro said rang clear as crystal in his head. Telling Yamamoto might be a mistake, as he recalled the way he reacted to a stranger that had not even laid a hand on "his Hayato". His reaction would most likely be a lot more severe and outlandish had he known what Mukuro did. Except maybe he wouldn't react so rashly, he was also a very calm person. It was possible he'd get angry - no, he'd _definitely _be angry, but it was possible he would understand that he couldn't do anything right now against the man that was currently Hayato's stand-in boss. After all, he did quit his job as a factual reporter so that Hayato could have his job back.

But that wasn't the only reason Hayato had been refraining. He couldn't live with what he did, it hurt a lot to think that he could be remotely unfaithful. He wasn't his father, he vowed to never be like him and while being in love with someone and committed to someone and remaining faithful to them wasn't something Hayato had thought about when making this vow, it was still something his father had done to his wife and to his own mother and he refused to follow in his footsteps. Except he kind of had and it made him revolt, made him sick to his stomach and the thought of seeing the hurt and anger in Yamamoto's eyes devastated him. The thought of having this exhilarating emotion that made him feel full and satiated and warm all over taken away from him just as quickly as it came was terrifying. It made him feel lonely and desolate and abandoned. Everything he had felt like when he was a child and he couldn't bear it. He wouldn't be able to bear it. There was nothing left in his world that would make him feel this whole again and he was desperate to keep Yamamoto for as long as he could.

"Did... everything go okay in there?" asked Yamamoto, breaking Hayato's train of thought and the awkward silence.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hayato muttered. It seemed he didn't want to talk about anything that dealt with negative possibilities that might chase away Yamamoto.

"Okay," Yamamoto replied quietly.

Hayato reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He rolled down the window and lit one, savoring the first inhale of smoky flavor. He continued to puff on it furiously, lighting another once he finished the first and had tossed it out onto the highway.

"'Dera... are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You always say you're fine. I think I know you well enough to know when you are and when you aren't."

Hayato scoffed. "Idiot, you don't fucking know me at all. Just shut up and drive."

The car suddenly jerked and swerved, jostling Hayato in his seat.

"Oi!" he shouted, turning to face Yamamoto. "What the hell was that?"

Yamamoto's face was intense. His lips were taut and thinly pressed and his eyes were narrowed sharply on the road as he changed lanes and drove onto the shoulder. He slammed on the brakes and put the car in park.

"Yamamoto, what the fuck!"

Yamamoto tore off his seat belt and turned to Hayato. "Look, I don't know what happened in there that pissed you off but I _do not _appreciate being spoken to like that. There's nothing but venom in your tone and I don't like it. So you're going to tell me what happened, even if it takes all night because I'm not moving this car until you tell me."

"Tch... then don't, but I'm leaving." Hayato moved to open his car door and Yamamoto swiftly reached across him and forcefully slammed the door shut. He glared at Hayato, his eyes clouded in anger.

"No, you aren't."

Hayato's heart stopped and he thought of reaching for his gun in the glove compartment but Yamamoto's large body blocked him. All he could do was stare at Yamamoto, neither one of them blinking in some unsaid staring contest that neither one of them wanted to lose.

He wasn't angry with Yamamoto, he was angry with himself and he couldn't bring himself to open up about what happened back at the station. In his own way, he was torn and the only thing Hayato knew how to do in a stiuation that he didn't know _what _to do, was run away. But since he couldn't physically _run _away, he wanted to push Yamamoto away.

He also knew that Yamamoto wouldn't revert back to his mindless self anytime soon. Not until he got what he wanted from Hayato and he already knew that Hayato was pretty much defenseless against this Takeshi.

"Shouldn't we be going to your contact's house? Isn't that more important right now?" Hayato opted for a change of subject instead.

"No, you're what's important right now. I won't have you upset and angry and obviously hurt about something and insulting me all the while," Yamamoto said lowly.

"Che. I insult you all the time, baseball freak." That one was endearing, he meant it to be in hopes of coaxing the carefree Yamamoto back so they could stop this awkward confessions game.

"Not like you did earlier," Yamamoto muttered. Hayato detected annoyance in his tone which was definitely a first.

"Look, I just had to deal with Mukuro's bullshit and it put me in a bad mood, alright? Sorry I came off so harsh."

Yamamoto shook his head. "That's not it. Are you still upset with me from earlier? Does doing it really matter that much to you that you're willing to carry over a grudge?"

_"Deep down, that's all that really matters to you, isn't it? You're just a little trollop, Gokudera Hayato."_

Mukuro's words ripped through him like a white hot flash of steel and he choked. That wasn't all that mattered to him, not now. He wanted to say _No, Takeshi, you're what matters to me and I fucked up. I fucked up real bad. _But he couldn't bring himself to form the words. In fact he felt a little insulted that Yamamoto pegged him with that but it wasn't like he could blame him. It's not like Hayato was giving him any truth to go off of so he was left to draw his own conclusions.

"Because if it does, I'll fuck the arrogance right out of you, right now and then you can leave if you'd like. i'll give you what you want if it really means that much."

Hayato startled and gaped at Yamamoto wide eyed. He was at a loss for words and for thought.

He cupped Hayato's cheek and his expression softened a little. "Is that what you want, Hayato?"

Hayato leaned into the warm hand and closed his eyes. He absolutely fucking despised himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered wearily. "I... I will tell you later, after we get the information on that bastard." Hayato opened his eyes and looked up at Yamamoto. "Alright?"

Yamamoto smiled. "Okay," he said, leaning in to kiss Hayato.

Hayato wanted to turn his head, too scared it might cause a succession of bad memories to resurface but that would only cause more alarm and that he didn't want to do, so he settled for a closed mouthed, chaste kiss. Yamamoto seemed to be satisfied with that and got back into his seat. He buckled his belt and reached over to squeeze Hayato's hand.

"I'm sorry I freaked out," he said. "But I really love you, you know?"

Hayato nodded and squeezed back. "Yeah... I know."

* * *

**Author's Note :**

So originally I wanted to make this two chapters but rather than have another grueling 20k word chapter to continue, I'll settle for two. Muku's past is revealed in the next chapter!


	20. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XX

**Author's Note : **

This is another long one, some minor 6959 hints but nothing to be worried about, just a fair warning. Again, these chapters are all unbeta'd so if there are spelling mistakes and or grammatical errors, I apologize ahead of time.

* * *

_**Chapter XX**_

* * *

Irie Shōichi was a frail and timid kid. And kid is what Hayato thought because he was smaller than the both of them in height and body structure. He wore green framed glasses that framed deep green eyes. His hair was a red wavy mess that fell over pale skin peppered with freckles especially dark splash across his nose and cheeks. He was soft spoken and fidgety, occasionally gripping his stomach and wincing. He complained he was nervous and asked about a million times if they were sure they hadn't been followed by anyone.

Yamamoto had cheerfully slapped a hand on his shoulder and reassured him that no, they hadn't been followed but Hayato knew better. They probably had, Mukuro's thirst for knowledge, especially concerning Hayato, was insatiable. What exactly his interest was, Hayato hadn't figured that out yet but he was sure Mukuro would want to know what he was up to.

Yamamoto introduced them and Irie mumbled some sort of hello and invited them inside, nervously looking left and right for any signs they had been tailed. Hayato scoffed inwardly, as if Mukuro's people would be that easy to spot. He's been looking for them ever since Mukuro told him that he had.

Hayato stepped inside Irie's small flat and removed his shoes. He hadn't realized earlier but his back still ached and his biceps were still tender.

"Gokudera-san, can I take your scarf and jacket?" Irie asked.

Hayato jerked up and flushed. "Uh, no... Thank you." It was warm inside the flat but Hayato would bear with the heat before facing Yamamoto with the marks on his neck, especially here. Not to mention, he wasn't going to have this Irie guy think something of him. He was here on professional business, he needed to look professional.

Yamamoto eyed him suspiciously. He hadn't brought his own jacket to offer but Hayato knew that questioning glance. Yamamoto looks stupid, but Hayato often thinks he uses that as a defense mechanism or even a façade for the darkness he harbours. He's observant and that's what makes him dangerous. He watches, absorbs all the information he needs and remembers only what's important to him, what interests him and as he said before, he remembers everything when it comes to Hayato so he knows Yamamoto knows something's up.

"It's kind of warm in here, Gokudera. Are you sure you'll be fine?" he asked.

One thing he should also know about Hayato is that he wouldn't want to show off these fucking bruises all over his neck or accidentally shift in his shirt to make the other bruises and cuts on the rest of his body visible. That was just a stupid question.

"Yes, you idiot. I'll be _fine_," Hayato hissed, pulling his jacket around himself tighter for emphasis. Hopefully the idiot would get the point because this Irie kid already looks uncomfortable with their presence.

"Haha, okay! Show us what you came up with, Shōichi!" Yamamoto shouted gleefully. Hayato noticed it's forcefulness. It was too loud and awkward to sound normal.

"Ah... uh, sure. Right this way, Yamamoto-san, Gokudera-san." Irie turned as ushered them into his flat.

Irie's place was surprisingly neat. Not just neat, _immaculate._ Everything had specific place and order and nothing was dirty or out of place. Hayato noticed that the books on Irie's many bookshelves were arranged in alphabetical order depending on size and what appeared to be category. As Hayato raked through the titles, he got excited when he saw familiar and favourite subjects such as cryptozoology, aliens and UMA's, physics and time travel. This kid was alright, Hayato decided.

Next his eyes were drawn to the massive computer monitor sided by two other smaller monitors on either side mounted on the wall. The wires were neatly fastened together with plastic zip ties forming a trail of cable down to a futuristic looking brushed chrome and glass desk. Here were a few wireless keyboards, large stereo headphones - which were similar to the ones he wore around his neck, a notebook and a pen - just one and some sort of stress ball. There were also other things set in specific places and nothing was askew. The system set up was elaborate and intricate, yet neat and tidy. Hayato could tell he spent a lot of time here, as the padded leather seat was worn and the objects on the desk were more personal than throughout the rest of the house.

He was definitely particular in his ways, Hayato was sure. Maybe not completely obsessive compulsive, but close enough. He knew because he was like this most of the time, except when he got stressed instead of the disorder getting worse, it faltered and he just didn't care.

Irie used a remote to turn on the monitors and they came to life with a black screen and what looked like binary coding. Hayato was beginning to see what Irie was good at and why he was so nervous about being found out.

He turned to the other two and sighed. "The name you gave me was difficult to search in any Japanese database. Not even the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Public Security Bureau had any information on said subject, except for date of birth and current address. However, the information the PSB had entered in their database has been falsified." Irie scratched his head inquisitivly.

Hayato figured as much and was definitely intrigued. Yamamoto looked bored.

"Please, have a seat, Gokudera-san. Yamamoto-san tells me the information is at your request. He doesn't usually come to me for this kind of thing." Irie cracked a nervous, half witted smile.

Hayato returned Irie's haphazard grin and brought over a steel chair that had been part of a small kitchen table set, turned it over and rested his arms over the back of it.

"Alright, continue. Don't mind the baseball idiot. He's not capable of absorbing and understanding any of this," he said with an eye roll.

Irie laughed timidly and looked from Hayato to Yamamoto and breathed a slight sigh of relief when Yamamoto laughed.

"Don't mind him when he says stuff like that. Gokudera's pretty cruel sometimes, haha!" Yamamoto laughed and rubbed the back of his head. He looked over at Hayato and Hayato could see uncertainty - just for a second - pass over his face.

For the rest of the car ride, Yamamoto and Hayato had stayed quiet. He let Yamamoto hold his hand until they got here but quickly snatched it away once they pulled up to the house. They hadn't had time to discuss anything and Hayato could tell Yamamoto was still unsure if they were okay. For someone who came off in both personalities with a boat of confidence, he was pretty insecure. At least when it came to Hayato and Hayato couldn't really blame him. It's not like he'd been exactly forthcoming with anything, especially their relationship and where they stand.

Hayato's eyes flicked to Irie, who was currently turning back to enter something in the computer. So, for reassurance - and _only _reassurance because he didn't need Yamamoto causing another scene because of his insults, like the one in the car, Hayato looked up at Yamamoto and winked, letting the smirk he had on his face tug at his lips until they curled into a grin.

Yamamoto's eyes widened a little and Hayato saw a tinge of redness spread through Yamamoto's cheeks. He's never really noticed if Yamamoto's ever blushed around him, except for that one time back at his dad's house. Hayato knew that he did enough of it around Yamamoto, but that was always because he was embarrassed at the stupid shit that he'd say. But Yamamoto was definitely flustered and Hayato guessed it was because he never showed him that kind of attention and he assumed Yamamoto was flattered by it - at least that's what Hayato told himself. And it was probably stupid of him to think of Yamamoto being flattered by his actions and blushing, because it caused a chain reaction and Hayato felt his face get blazing hot, especially because he had been thinking of how he wanted to drag Yamamoto into a bathroom or closet or whatever closed space Irie had and ravage him. He was just too cute like this.

He made a mental note to at some point when they were alone, surprise him with something like that again so that he could actually appreciate that stunned and flustered look Yamamoto wore right now by ripping off his clothes and taking him to bed.

Feeling the heat spread furiously to the tips of his ears, Hayato shook the imagery out of his head and cleared his throat. This was bad, he wanted Yamamoto so much right now. He wanted to be confined in those warm and muscular arms, to taste the salt and earth on his skin and sweet savory sapidity of his mouth. He wanted to feel the emotion that radiated off Yamamoto in every scalp tingling rough grasp of hair and every hair raising and gentle caress. The truth was in those gestures, the only way Hayato understood anything because words were often hollow and meaningless. It was all in the actions because they spoke louder volumes than any _I love you _could.

He needed to have Yamamoto's hands on his chest, Yamamoto's full and soft lips on his skin and Yamamoto's weight heavy but as light as air on top of him or under him. He didn't much care anymore, as long as it was with Yamamoto and Yamamoto only.

He could feel the torridness rush through his body and himself getting hard at the notion. If he couldn't derail this train of thought soon he wouldn't be able to contain himself much longer and he risked a repeat of the day's earlier rejection and the embarrassment that went along with it.

_Shit..._

"Gokudera-san, the information?" Irie's voice sliced through his reverie and he exhaled a shaky breath. Before looking at Irie, Hayato glanced over at Yamamoto who still had that vermilion hue to his cheeks and was currently biting his lip and avoiding Hayato's gaze.

_He must've been thinking the same thing... Ridiculous. Are we horny fucking teenagers or what? What's with this awkward moment?_

"Um... Gokudera-san?"

Hayato tore his gaze away from Yamamoto and cleared his throat once more. "Uh yeah, sorry. What were you saying?"

Shōichi gave him a perplexed look but then turned back to the monitors. "I asked if you wanted to hear all the information I have on said subject or was there something in particular that you wanted to know."

"Oh. Well... everything if that's possible."

Irie sent a weary glance over in Yamamoto's direction. "The fee... "

Yamamoto chuckled nervously. "Aha... don't worry about it, I'll cover it."

"Fee?" asked Hayato incredulously. He hadn't even thought of the cost of the information and felt a little stupid at his naivety. Nothing in this world came for free.

"Don't worry about the fee, Gokudera. Just get the information you wanted. We don't have a lot of time, ne?"

Hayato was suspicious as to how much the retainer fee was and how Yamamoto was able to pay for it but decided that those questions were best to be asked later.

"I'll continue then," Irie stated. He pulled up a file on the central monitor and turned to Hayato. "As I was saying, I wasn't able to find any data regarding your subject in any Japanese databases. However, I did a lot of research and I found something from Interpol but it's a sealed file and so far I've only been able to extract a few pieces."

"I-Interpol?" _Interpol? What have they got to do with Mukuro?_

"It's because the file dates back to when your subject was a child, and from what I can see, there's a lot of messed up stuff here, Gokudera-san. I'll print you what I've got for your own research and conclusions but I'll give you a quick run through first."

Irie opened the file and it revealed a picture of a child, pale skin and dark blue hair. Both eyes were a deep sapphire blue and Hayato seen an all too familiar look in them. Sadness and despair and desolation. Not a look a young child should have on their face. The longer Hayato stared at the photo, the more familiar the child looked. He wasn't sure if it was himself he was seeing or if it was because the younger Mukuro looked exactly like his older self with the exception of his red eye. Now how he came to have a red eye sparked Hayato's curiosity. For the time being however, he'd focus on the information given and work out hid theories later on.

"This is a photo of your subject who'll remain RM for the duration of this conversation. Just in case... ya know," Irie looked around anxiously and whispered, "In case there are bugs."

Hayato bit back a snort. He really wanted to ask if Irie Shōichi was in fact twenty seven and not fourteen.

"Right, of course." Hayato said, nodding. Perhaps he had warrant for his paranoia, but he was just too comical.

"This is RM at the age of five, born to the Estraneo - a mafia family in Verona, Italy -"

Hayato choked on air and nearly fell off his chair.

"Gokudera?" Yamamoto took a few steps towards him.

Hayato held out his hand, halting Yamamoto's advance and composed himself, hoping that neither of the other men could hear how hard his heart was beating.

"I'm fine, I uh... I'm fine." He had no excuse, he just hoped Yamamoto didn't piece it together.

Yamamoto looked at him worriedly but said nothing. Irie looked confused but he continued.

"Anyways, as I was saying, he was born into the mafia, which is why Interpol also has these files. I searched other databases and domains in Italy but I found nothing."

_You wouldn't find anything_, Hayato thought. _The mafia covers their tracks._

"What I managed to get out of the sealed file was there was a mass murder within the family, and when investigated there were no arrests made and no suspects other than possible rival families. It seems like there had been many children under the care of the Estraneo, but all those records are sealed too. RM was removed from that family and from what I can tell, somehow managed to end up in another mafia family -"

_I've never heard of the Estraneo_... _This means I'll have to talk to Shamal again. __F__uck._

"- in Northern Italy-"

Hayato blinked at looked over at Irie. "What was the name of the family again?"

"Oh, uh... I said the Vernelli family. Uh, located in... Trento, Italy."

_I've never heard of that family either..._

Hayato nodded. He knew of these places, being taught geography in his homeschool lessons, but they were far north from where he was was born. He had never heard of these families and being that they were so far away from Palermo was probably why. And also, maybe it's because he had spent a lot of time in the underground, dealing with small, insignificant families or street gangs trying to work his way to the top, only to be shot and taken out of the game at thirteen.

"Gokudera?"

Hayato snapped his head over to the sound and Yamamoto was looking at him quizzically. "Hm?"

"Are you okay? You keep spacing out."

Hayato scoffed. "Mind your business, baseball freak. Stop talking so that the adults can continue." He waved a pointed finger between himself and Irie, who looked really uncomfortable.

"Aha, Gokudera's so cruel, see I told you, Shōichi! But he's not all that bad, haha." Yamamoto scratched the back of his head and turned away from Hayato's gaze.

"Tch." Hayato rolled his eyes.

Irie laughed awkwardly. "Ha... ha. O-okay."

Hayato saw Yamamoto fidgeting out of the corner of his eye and thought it must be really bothering him to have to act so professional in front of someone. It's not exactly _professional_ but in the sense that Yamamoto isn't able to touch him or even call him by name. He could see that Yamamoto looked concerned and bothered and wanted to comfort him but he couldn't and he didn't know what to do with himself. Hayato frowned. He was already feeling guilty about earlier, _immensely _guilty and not being able to work out his frustrations was making him uncomfortable too. He couldn't wait to get out of here.

Irie cleared his throat and Hayato cursed himself for not being able to focus on anything today. His brain was a muddled mess.

"As I was saying," Irie began once Hayato gave him his attention, "About five years later, the entire Vernelli family was slaughtered and again, RM was one of the survivors. The other survivor was a man who's name has been blacked out in all of the reports. My guess was that he was the said culprit except that was the second time RM -"

"Was at the center of a massacre," Hayato finished flatly. He was currently lost in thought, remembering Mukuro's fingers in his hair and wet breath on his neck.

"_I know everything there is to know about you, Hurricane Bomb. There's no end to my knowledge and there is nothing I can't reach. Do you understand that, Luciano Filippi? It's one more way of getting the things I want and right now I want you."_

Hayato shuddered. He knew nothing about Mukuro's past and yet, he had a feeling they were connected somehow. He just didn't understand why.

"And after that he was placed in a maximum security mental facility in Northern Europe. Perhaps you've heard of it? It's rather famous for it's impenetrable walls. The -"

"Vendicare," Hayato muttered.

"Yes!" Irie said with uncharacteristic excitement. "So you've heard of it too, Gokudera-san?"

"Yes, it was once a prison and then became an institution for the criminally insane."

Hayato noticed a gleam in Irie's eyes.

"I'd love to see it one day, it's a place of legend," he beamed.

Hayato felt a sort of kinship with Irie when it came to his love for unusual and extraordinary things. Hearing about the place when Hayato was a child, he had wanted to go see what this place was all about too. He heard the people there upheld all mafia law, they _were _the law. He had never known anyone personally to be taken there but people in the mafia were afraid of the Vindice. The mere mention of them could set any crooked man straight.

Except the Vindice weren't concerned with low life criminals and when the crime rate began to dissipate, the Vindice no longer had a need for the prison. The crime never did get any better, the mafia just got smarter at not getting caught. Needless to say the Vindice instead took in the extreme cases, the ones that needed to be locked up for their heinous crimes. Hayato has heard a lot of stories about the torture that goes on in there and how once in, you can never leave. The walls surrounding the prison are over twenty feet tall and covered in thick barbed wire, made of steel and concrete and are literally unbreakable. The actual building is huge, much like a fortress, with heavy cement cinderblocks encased in liquid steel and layered on top of another, much like the walls of the facility. It was impossible to leave and Hayato has never known of heard of someone being able to leave unless it was in a body bag.

"And RM... how did he escape the institution?"

Irie shrugged. "That isn't in any of the files and if it is, I haven't found it yet. I haven't had much time to crack and decipher the coding it's hidden within. Even Interpol has tight security surrounding this one file."

Hayato nodded. "So that's it then?"

"Well there's more information in this report I'm giving you now, photos and dates etcetera. I can call Yamamoto-san once I've been able to find out more information, if I can bypass their security." Irie grabbed the papers that had printed prior to their discussion and placed them in a large envelope. He handed it over to Hayato and sighed.

"I don't know much when it comes to the outside world, my world is here. This is what I do. But... something tells me this man is dangerous and when I think about it, I get a terrible stomach ache. I've done my best to make sure that my actions have gone unnoticed and are untraceable. Please be careful, you guys. Someone went through a lot of trouble to cover this up, and by my assumption, RM isn't aware this file exists."

Yamamoto walked over to Irie and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry,Shōichi, Gokudera is a really smart cop, we'll be safe with him protecting us." He smiled wide and bright, so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkled.

Hayato felt his cheeks get hot, just a little and he snorted. "Have to be extra smart to make up for your stupidity," he remarked with an eye roll. In all actuality, he felt quite flattered that Yamamoto thought so highly of him. It made him feel the same way the Tenth made him feel, almost, when he'd boast about what a great officer he was.

_The Tenth... I wonder what he's been doing and if he's okay..._

It felt like ages since Hayato had spoken to Tsuna, and it tugged on his heart. He really did miss his boss and he hoped that wherever he was, he was safe from the grimy clutches of Rokudo Mukuro.

* * *

They had spent another half an hour at Irie's place discussing things and by the time they had left it was dark and cold outside. Anxiety began to pull at Hayato's insides because there was one thing he needed to do but couldn't bring himself to do it.

He knew that Yamamoto would see the marks but he had no way of explaining them. He knew that he'd tell the truth but how much of it did he tell and how much of it would Yamamoto believe? And he wondered how Yamamoto would take it and what he would do once he knew. It wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now and he knew that he wouldn't be able to leave him either. He didn't want to go home, despite needing the information on Mukuro, just yet. He didn't want to leave Takeshi alone either, in case the Bovino had arrived and had been tailing them. He needed to read over the case files if he was going to be of any use to his department and Tsuna, because showing his boss he was capable of being the good cop he praised him for would get him back in his good graces and that was really important to Hayato.

"So... where are we going now?" asked Yamamoto once they were in the car.

Hayato chewed on his bottom lip and mentally checked off the places he'd rather _not _be. "How about your place?"

Yamamoto startled. "My place? Like uh, my apartment?"

Hayato scowled. "Well yeah, idiot. I don't really want to have to face your dad like this and going back to my house with you after what happened earlier is just stupid. So that only leaves your place."

"You never did tell me what happened at your house," Yamamoto said pointedly.

"I still don't want to talk about it," Hayato quipped, looking out the window. "So are we going or what?"

Yamamoto laughed nervously. "Well... my place really isn't fit for company, haha."

Hayato eyed him. "Why, is it messy? Covered in baseball crap?"

"Haha, no."

"Then, your walls are plastered with swimsuit models with big tits you used to jerk off to before you met me?" he teased smugly.

Yamamoto's eyes widened and he threw his hands up in defense. "No, no, nothing like that!"

Hayato couldn't help but laugh a little. After the day he had, this little bit of normalcy was almost refreshing. It would've been had he not been so tired and worried.

"Well, then what's wrong with it?"

Yamam shifted uncomfortably in the drivers seat. "Well, it's just that I don't stay there very often, so there's not much inside."

Hayato shrugged. "I just need a roof over my head. I have a lot of work to do."

"We could go to a motel," Yamamoto suggested.

"No!" Hayato blurted. He hadn't meant to, but the thought of motels had made him feel sick. He associated the motels with his promiscuity, which led him to Mukuro and the sickening pleasure he had felt, which in turn made him feel disgusted and dirty and guilty. Yamamoto was starting a change in him, in a good way. While before he hadn't thought that there was anything wrong with his life but now that he had something better to compare it to, he was beginning to see how reckless and shameful he had been living. He didn't want to revert back to that lifestyle if he could avoid it, he wanted to move forward with the future. He wanted to make himself a better man for Tsuna, for his job and for Yamamoto.

"No... I don't want to go to a motel. You know how those things disgust me. I'd rather be able to go somewhere I can have a nice, hot shower and focus on work."

Yamamoto opened his mouth to say something and Hayato hoped it wasn't what he had been thinking Yamamoto would say. _You never had a problem with motels before, Gokudera. Isn't that right, you little trollop?_

Part way through his thought, Yamamoto's voice in his head turned into Mukuro's voice and Hayato nearly threw up. He gagged and choked and bit back the bile that had rocketed up his esophagus.

"Gokudera! Are you okay?" Yamamoto's voice was alarmed and panicked.

"I'm... fine. Just... let's go home." _Home. _It's not like he really had a place to call his own anymore, but the thought of sharing one with Yamamoto was kind of pleasing considering he hated sharing space with anyone. Yamamoto was certainly changing him.

Yamamoto sighed softly and put the car in drive. "Okay... but when we get there, promise me you'll tell me what happened to you. You've been acting weird all day, especially since you came back from the station."

Hayato nodded, afraid to open his mouth in fear that the mere mention of the station would set off another chain of revolting recollections.

Before Yamamoto started to drive he leaned over and kissed Hayato's cheek. Hayato stiffened with shock as his cheeks seared hot.

"Wh-what was that for, bastard?!" he scolded.

Yamamoto laughed. "What, I can't kiss my boyfriend when he looks like he needs cheering up?"

"Che, idiot! I'm not your _boyfriend_," Hayato grumbled and he averted his eyes out the window as the heat in his cheeks grew.

Yamamoto chuckled and began driving. "So we're back to this then?"

Hayato sighed. "Do you need a title to know what we are?"

"Well, Gokudera never really makes it clear," Yamamoto said with a laugh.

Looking back at Yamamoto, Hayato snorted. "That's because I shouldn't have to. We're seeing each other, aren't we? We fuck, spend more time than we need to with each other... shit, we've even met each other's family. I don't understand why you need to give things a name."

Yamamoto smiled and looked over at Hayato. "Gokudera has big commitment issues, doesn't he?"

This caused him to snort again. "Che! If you haven't figured that out by now, you're a lot more stupid than you look... which is pretty fucking stupid right about now with that idiotic grin on your face. Stop that, it's sickening."

"Haha, Gokudera makes me feel lovesick. I can't help it."

Hayato let out a comical gagging sound and reached for his cigarettes.

"You know, I'm really happy that I met Gokudera," Yamamoto said softly.

Hayato didn't want to ruin Yamamoto's embarrassing confession but he couldn't take anymore niceties from him. He didn't deserve them, not today.

"Enough with that sappy shit," Hayato snapped. "I'm gonna lose my appetite."

"Haha. Sorry, sorry. Oh! Are you hungry? We could swing by my dad's shop and grab some sushi. Or, I could pick up a few things and cook for you?"

Hayato lit his cigarette. "No, I'm... not really that hungry."

"Ma ma, Gokudera. You need to eat sometimes, you're so cranky and skinny because you never eat."

"Wow, what a nice thing to say to your _boyfriend,_" Hayato mocked.

"I thought you said you weren't my boyfriend," Yamamoto said with a grin.

"I'm not."

"Ma, whatever you say, Gokudera... At least drink some milk."

"Milk is disgusting."

"It's probably why you're always so mad. You need calcium."

Hayato looked at him incredulously. "You..." _Deep breaths... "_You're actually the number one cause, idiot!" he spouted.

Yamamoto laughed hysterically. Like he was completely oblivious to just how much truth there was in Hayato's words.

"Gokudera can be a really funny guy sometimes," Yamamoto said once he caught his breath and stopped laughing like Hayato had cracked the world's funniest joke.

"You're an idiot. Do you ever stop talking?"

"Nope, not really."

Hayato groaned and rolled his eyes. Yamamoto may be excruciatingly annoying but at least it was helping him forget about what happened at the precinct.

"Keep your eyes on the road, moron."

"Haha, sorry I can't help it. Gokudera is really beautiful to look at. Especially when he's that colour red."

Hayato's face got even hotter, just as he had begun to cool down. "I... I am going to beat you up. Call me beautiful one more time, I dare you to, you fucker."

Yamamoto eyed him. "Is that a challenge?"

"Is everything a competition to with you?"

"Yup! How 'bout it? Dare me again, haha."

"Tch." Hayato rolled his eyes. "I know what these challenges usually lead to, baseball freak. And right now, you're driving."

"I can pull over," Yamamoto said with a wink and a sly grin.

"No."

"We can do things while I drive," Yamamoto suggested as his grin grew more wicked.

"Idiot! I hate your driving as it is, you're a horrible driver! Now you're just asking for us to be killed in a unnecessary car wreck," Hayato chided, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Yamamoto burst out laughing and Hayato couldn't understand what he had said that was so funny. He was being brutally honest. Still, the conversation - though stupid, was really relaxing and comfortable. Yamamoto didn't seem to frustrate him as much as he used to. There was a subtle warmth in his chest, even when he was angry with him. He knew he had fallen for Yamamoto and he didn't know exactly when it happened, maybe the very first time he laid eyes on him he had been captivated. All he knew was that he was still falling, further and further down and he hoped that when he finally stopped falling, it wasn't hard enough to break him.

"Ma ma, relax Gokudera. You're always so paranoid."

"It's not paranoia, it's realism."

"Are you sure we shouldn't stop at a convenience store and grab some milk?"

Hayato gasped dramatically. "You mean to tell me you don't have cartons upon cartons in your refrigerator?"

Yamamoto laughed. "It goes bad, you know."

"Like a kid," Hayato muttered under his breath. "Honestly, you and your milk. I'm not going to drink it and you can't make me."

"Haha, is that another challenge?"

"Where is the point to this conversation? It keeps going around in circles. I mean, I feel like my IQ is slipping by the minute."

"Haha, don't be like that Gokudera. Would it kill you to laugh a little?"

"It's possible. I don't want to catch your idiocy, and if I laugh at something _you_ find funny, I'll be doomed. Your stupidity might actually kill me."

Yamamoto smirked and reached over, plucking the cigarette Hayato had in between his lips. "These things will kill you." He tossed the cigarette out the window.

"Hey, you bastard! I was smoking that!"

"And now you're not. I just saved five minutes of your life," Yamamoto said matter-of-factly.

Hayato shot him his best heated glare. "Do that again and I'll take more than five minutes off of yours, you bastard."

Yamamoto laughed hard as he pulled into a parking lot belonging to a shabby, dilapidated looking three story apartment building.

Hayato had forgotten where they were going or how they even got there but now that he looked around, Yamamoto lived very close to Sakura Town and close to the motel Hayato had been at the night before.

"You live _here_?" Hayato asked incredulously.

"Ha... yeah," Yamamoto answered sheepishly. "I told you my place wasn't that great."

"Yeah, but why _here?_ This neighborhood is full of street thugs and crackheads."

Yamamoto shrugged. "It's all I could afford on my salary. It's not too bad. I've only ever been robbed twice. And not as badly beaten up as that one time, haha."

Hayato looked over at him and frowned. "Yamamoto..."

No matter how many times Hayato looked at him and saw a man with confidence and a man with both physical and mental strength, he realized that Yamamoto was still just like an innocent kid. Green and naive, sheltered and spoiled by his parents all throughout his life. He didn't know how to stand on his own, not really. He tried, and that was commendable, but he didn't have the street smarts to live in this world. It took sharpness and common sense, agility and flexibility _and _adaptability. To be able to survive in a place like this, a world different to the one he lived in before, it took suspicion and hardness, apathy and indifference.

Maybe Yamamoto was capable of those things, but he shouldn't have to be. Hayato didn't want him to be jaded like he was. These kinds of things weren't fitted for someone with so much light, even if he had that inner dark streak.

Looking at him now, his face was so boyish, young and not hardened by a harsh life he had to live or blemished by frown lines and wrinkles. With the exception of the scar on his chin that made Hayato furious every time he saw it because it was like a stain on such a flawless canvas, a reminder that even the purest of things can be ruined in an instant. That no amount of sunshine was safe in this world because there would always be darkness seeking to snuff it out.

Hayato felt a twinge of guilt then, more than just a twinge but this one was fresh and it hurt. The more he thought about it, the more he hated himself. He had been selfish thinking that Yamamoto had ruined _his _life, when before he met Takeshi he had already been on the path to self destruction. But what about Yamamoto's life? Since meeting Hayato, so many bad things that have and could potentially happen to him and Hayato hadn't told him about any of them. His actions drove Yamamoto crazy, made him a little unstable in his head and for what he had to already deal with here, wasn't that enough? Hadn't Hayato put him through enough? His father called him Yamamoto's saviour, but was that really true?

There were hitmen coming from Italy and they weren't your average cinematic hitmen. These guys did their research and they would kill anyone close to Bianchi. Once they found out who Hayato was, he'd be killed too and anyone close to him and that meant the Tenth and Yamamoto. How could he be someone's saviour when he was the one handing over Yamamoto's death sentence?

Then there was Mukuro. For whatever reason, he seemed to be out for Yamamoto and Hayato could tell. He wasn't stupid, there was something Mukuro was planning against him but he needed to drive a wedge in between them first. Hayato believed, in a non narcissistic manner, that Mukuro did want him and he wanted him enough to do whatever possible to get Yamamoto put of the picture. Why else would he tell Tsuna about their relationship, in hopes of because it being so fresh, he'd stop seeing Yamamoto. That worked at first, but he probably hadn't wagered on Yamamoto's persistence. Then more recently, showing him a pair of glasses and claiming they were Takeshi's found at a crime scene, implicating him in the murders. Or the marks on his neck, left there to provoke Yamamoto into a state of frenzy. He obviously knew more about Yamamoto then he led on and that was excruciatingly unnerving for Hayato because he just couldn't figure it all out.

"Gokudera?"

Hayato snapped out of his momentary daze and cocked his head to the side. "Hm?"

Yamamoto furrowed his brow. "I asked if you were getting out or if you wanted to go somewhere else. Do you?"

Hayato shook his head. He was beginning to get annoyed with how unfocused and easily distracted he had become. "No, no. This is fine. I need a quiet place to think." He glanced over at Yamamoto who's grin was so bright it hurt Hayato's eyes to. look at it. "Relatively quiet," he mentioned with a snort. "Besides, I've got my gun."

Yamamoto chuckled. "Oh, that's right! My boyfriend is a hardcore police detective." He leaned over Hayato and pouted, batting his eyelashes. "You'll protect me won't you, _Keiji-san_?"

"Ugh, that's disgusting." Hayato hid his grin in a scoff as he slapped his hand over Yamamoto's face. "Too close," he muttered. "And I am _not _your boyfriend. Will you give that up already?"

"Awh, so cruel," Yamamoto whined.

"Tch... honestly, like a kid. I don't know how anyone puts up with you. Really."

"How do you do it?" Yamamoto asked with a laugh as he got out of the car.

Hayato reached for his gun in the glove compartment and grabbed the files off the backseat, including the ones on Mukuro. Yamamoto opened his door for him and he was about to scold him when he realized his hands were full anyways.

"I'm claiming temporary insanity on that one, because _I'm_ not even sure how I do it," he jived, tucking the AutoMag in between his backbone and waistband. "Ugh, I feel like a stupid thug wearing my gun like this."

"It makes you look sexy," Yamamoto commented in his ear as they walked side by side across the parking lot.

Abashed, Hayato took a few steps back. "Will you stop it? I can't focus when you say shit like that!"

"Haha. Sorry, sorry. I'll leave you alone for now. But don't think I'll ever stop saying things like that to you," Yamamoto said as they entered the building.

Hayato rolled his eyes. "Che."

Yamamoto chuckled and headed down a hallway. "My apartment is the last one on the ground floor. Coming?"

Hayato clicked his tongue in annoyance and sauntered after Yamamoto until he stopped to. unlock his door. It had no number on the door and the whitewashed paint was chipping and peeling in certain places.

It creaked open with a horrible screeching sound, like nails on a chalkboard. Yamamoto stepped in and Hayato followed. It was black inside, there were heavy dark coloured drapes covering the barred windows he had noticed from the outside, not allowing the slightest bit of light inside the apartment.

Yamamoto had gone searching for a light switch and found it and when light was shed on his apartment, Hayato made a sound that was partway between a groan and a gasp.

The apartment was so small, there no bedrooms or hallways. Everything was centred in one room. The paint was peeling here too, off the walls and it bubbled in spots from water damage and being exposed to the heat of Japanese summers. The ceiling was stained brown and yellow and the wooden floor was moldy and hollow. There was a kitchen but it was hardly big enough to call it that. There was a small stove and refrigerator but no counter space and no sink. Scanning the room, Hayato saw a small wooden table with a laptop in the center. Just past that was an open bathroom, the toilet in plain view and the shower only made out by the broken and cracked tiles raised couple of inches off the cheap wooden floor. There was no sink there either. And coming full circle to where they stood was a flat futon mattress and clothes rack, along with one single small dresser and an empty bookshelf to his left.

Hayato didn't really understand it but he felt his chest clench and his stomach twist in knots. He couldn't believe Yamamoto lived in a place like this. He couldn't believe that such a happy go-lucky kind of guy chose to be here rather than with his dad, where he had a warm bed and good food. But a thought crossed his mind that made him see Yamamoto in a different light. Maybe he didn't want to be there because it reminded him of his mother, someone he loved a lot and was no longer there. Hayato couldn't even begin to sympathize because he hadn't really known his mother and Yamamoto lived with her for most of his life.

_"He's been really depressed, has been for a while. Since his mother died..." _Tsuyoshi's words echoed in between his ears.

So he'd rather be here in this shithole then in a place that reminded him too much of his mother.

"Haha, see... I told you it was kind of bad. We can do somewhere else if you're not comfortable," Yamamoto offered quietly.

Hayato looked over at him and he was currently toeing a broken piece of the floor with his sneaker and had a profound interest in it.

He took his gun out of his waistband and set it on the bookshelf. It made a hollow thunking sound. He felt himself take a step forward, tenative and unsure because there was something stirring in his chest that felt pleasant but it made his mind muddled and confused. The files slipped from his hands inelegantly, scattering the dirty floor in stark white. That's when he reached for Yamamoto and jerked him in. Yamamoto looked startled but only for a minute, only until Hayato pressed his lips against his, hard and desperate. He framed Yamamoto's face between his hands, moved them through his hair and found purchase at the back of Yamamoto's head where he clutched soft silken handfuls of the raven hair.

He wasn't sure what it was but something came over him and he just wanted to hold Yamamoto, he wanted to shield him from every bad thing he's had to go through. He guessed it was guilt and pity or something like caring, something like that but whatever it was it made him feel like he needed to comfort Yamamoto and let him know that the whole world wasn't that bad. Maybe it was seeing the way he lived and knowing everything else about him and knowing that he still smiled through everything which up until now he had envied and hated.

This swelling, this ballooning feeling threatening to expand in his chest until it exploded, there was no proper name for it. Hayato just knew that he was happy, that he was exactly where he wanted to be and Yamamoto was exactly who he wanted to be with. This was most certainly love.

Having realized this, having these staggering feelings rush him all at once, Hayato broke away from their frenzied kiss and glanced at Yamamoto though the silver fringe hanging over his eyes. He opened his mouth and drew in a breath.

"I love you," he said with conviction and Yamamoto stilled for a second with shock stricken features.

When the silence became to long to bear and the anxiety of being rejected tugged at his heart, he opened his mouth to take it back, give an excuse for the slip of his tongue but Yamamoto's mouth was on his before he could blink, swallowing his refutes.

Finally being able to say those words and mean them, even if it was really an unconscious mistake made in the heat of the moment, it was as if Hayato had a heavy burden lifted off of his chest. He and Yamamoto were on the same page now and he knew that he couldn't take those words back now, no matter how many times from here on out that he might want to. Saying it, he knew that he accepted all of Yamamoto, and that he had just dragged him into a world that he shouldn't be a part of, but within those words was a silent vow to take responsibility. He would protect and love Yamamoto for as long as his heart still beat and blood still flowed through his veins.

He pressed his body harder against Yamamoto's, feeling a high like none other before. He felt free, weightless and like there was nothing hindering him from being himself completely. Every one of his senses was alight with a new fire, something blinding and deafening and numbing all at once. Whatever the feeling, it was amazing.

Yamamoto peeled his jacket off, his strong hands applying just the right amount of pressure as he gripped Hayato's shoulders and it made him groan. The sensation was rough and frantic but gentle and loving at the same time. Hayato was too busy with his tongue, working on tangling it messily with Yamamoto's, too busy to notice Yamamoto's thumbs slide under the scarf around his neck. He slipped it off, just like that and Hayato was in too deep to regard. His mouth was on his neck before he could comprehend what was going on, hot and wet and yearning. The whole day spent wanting each other was worth this unbridled concupiscence.

"_Takeshi,_" he moaned.

He could feel Yamamoto's tongue slide up his neck, over the tender and bruised flesh from the day's prior debauchery and he winced. And it only took a moment, so lightning quick, that Hayato didn't know what happened until Yamamoto's hand was around his throat, snapping his neck viciously to the side.

"What is this?" His steely tone sliced through Hayato's lustful haze and instantly made him numb.

"H-huh?" He still wasn't lucid enough to know what Yamamoto was talking about.

Yamamoto uttered a low and guttural growl and swiped his thumb over the soft tissue damage, pressing in hard to accentuate his next words. "_This_, Hayato. What is this _filth _doing on your neck?"

And then the sobering reality hit him as everything caught up to speed and crashed into him like a tidal wave that made him waver on his feet. His knees buckled and he lost the ability to stand but Yamamoto's reflexes kicked in just as he was about to slip out of his grasp. Yamamoto tightened his grip around Hayato's throat. When it caused him to choke and Yamamoto loosened his grip just enough so that Hayato could suck air back into his lungs before he grabbed him by the shoulders and violently shook him.

"Who did this, Hayato?" he demanded loudly.

Hayato's heart raced, it thudded so hard against his chest that it hurt and he thought he was going to have a heart attack. This was fear, knew Yamamoto could flip easily like this, he had expected as much, but the fact that he was capable of anything when he switched was what scared Hayato the most.

"I-I... don't w-want to talk about it," Hayato stammered, though he knew what he said wouldn't bode well with Yamamoto. He tried pulling away from Yamamoto but his grip was too strong for Hayato's already weakened disposition.

He shoved Hayato backwards and he landed on the flat and not so comfortable futon mattress with a hard thud. Sharp pain jolted up his tailbone and he suddenly had flashbacks of the night before. He didn't want things to go this way, or _that _way. He just wanted to scream, everything in his life seemed like such a mess and just when he thought he had a moment of clarity, he had to go and fuck it up, just like he did everything else.

"Jesus fuck, Yama-!"

"You're going to tell me," Yamamoto snarled as he loomed over Hayato. He could see the clouded storm of anger, darkening his usually bright hazel eyes.

"Fuck," Hayato groaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck you! Why do you always have to make a big deal out of shit? This is fucking crazy, Yamamoto and you know it. I can't take these fucking mood swings of yours, they're driving me insane!" He pulled at his hair and growled.

"Well? Who was it? Was it the man from last night or was it someone else?" asked Yamamoto candidly.

Hayato shot him a glare. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

He pushed his silver hair out of his face and leaned against the wall. "I'm so tired of this," Hayato murmured. "I'm so tired of everything."

"You don't think this tires me out?" Yamamoto asked indignantly. "You don't think that what _you _do doesn't drive me crazy? I leave you for a couple of hours and you come back with these marks on your neck that aren't mine. Do you get that, Hayato? _They're not mine. _You let someone else so freely brand you like that -"

"Brand me?" Hayato snapped venomously. "Brand me like I'm some sort of fucking cattle? Do you hear yourself?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Yamamoto said with an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah right, you fucking didn't." Hayato looked up at him. "I'm not just some fucking _thing_ you can put your name on and I'm automatically your property!"

"Haya-"

"I said I was yours, didn't I? I let you have _all _of me, didn't I?! Jesus Christ, I just said that I fucking loved you! What more do you want from me?! Because I honestly don't know how much more I can fucking give to you and if you keep asking me to prove myself, then I don't think this is going to work out. Quite honestly, I'm sick of it."

Yamamoto snorted. "What I want from you is to be faithful to me! How can you say that you're mine while you sit there with some other person's teeth marks on your skin? How can you tell me you love me when you've been with another guy? How can you tell me that while this whole time you've been lying to me?"

"_Lying_ to you? I haven't said a fucking word," Hayato stated coolly.

"Of course you haven't. I've been asking you all day and you haven't said anything. You could have, but you hid it from me. Did you think I wouldn't see it? I didn't think you could be so dumb," Yamamoto sneered smugly.

Hayato narrowed his eyes and cursed the numbness in his body that prevented him from standing and punching Yamamoto in the gut. "_I'm _dumb? Did you just call me dumb? You, of all fucking people? You're the most idiotic person I've ever met! You're dumb and you're stupid and you're a fucking moron and what the fuck, Yamamoto! What the fuck is wrong with you? You make me fucking hate you, you know that? When you're like this, I hate you," Hayato seethed.

He wasn't sure what he felt. He was angry but he didn't hate Yamamoto. He couldn't hate him. Maybe. But really, who he hated was himself, for complicating things and hurting Yamamoto. And maybe Yamamoto wasn't showing his pain right now, but Hayato knew that's why Yamamoto flips on this switch. It's a defense mechanism, it happens when he's hurt. More so, it happens when Hayato hurts him. If anyone was to blame for Yamamoto acting like this it was him. If he had just did _something _against Mukuro they wouldn't be fighting right now. And Hayato didn't want to be angry and fight but he wasn't going to sit there and be yelled at and not defend himself. Especially when they aimed for his intelligence. _No one_ insulted his intelligence.

"Ma, you hate _me_?" Yamamoto laughed acerbically. "When I see you like this, I hate you too. You're so selfish and desperate that anyone will do, you don't care who's feelings you hurt in the process. Cheap motels and one night stands with strangers that you don't even know the name of. Deep down, that's all that really matters to you, isn't it?"

With those words, Hayato felt like he had been slapped in the face. They left his skin stinging with heat and sick to his stomach. They were the exact words Mukuro had said to him earlier. How could someone he love say such a thing? It was like Takeshi didn't know who he was at all, but maybe he actually did. Maybe he saw right through Hayato, and maybe that was really all that mattered to him but that was before Yamamoto had come into his life. That wasn't what mattered now, and Hayato knew it, right down to his core.

Hayato was livid. "Do you think I wanted this?!" he yelled angrily, gesturing to his neck. "Do you think I didn't hate having this done to me?"

Yamamoto scoffed. "How could I not? It's not like there's just one and you'd obviously stop it before it got to a second one, no? _If _you hated it."

"I did hate it," Hayato admitted. "I hated every second of it."

Yamamoto frowned. "Then why?"

Hayato looked away, afraid to see the hurt he detected in Yamamoto's voice in his eyes. He wasn't able to give him a logical answer and he hated it. He wanted to put his mind at ease but he had no idea how, the words just wouldn't come out. He wanted to reach up and pull Yamamoto into him and just apologize over and over but his limbs wouldn't move. He was frozen and fuming below him.

He felt Yamamoto's long fingers wrap around his chin and turn his face, tilting it upwards so that Hayato had no choice but to look him in the eyes. And Hayato did see the hurt when he searched, but it was hard to make it past the darkness in them. So badly he wanted to reach out and pull him in, kiss him and show him that those three words meant something to him too, he was serious when he said them, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to say them so easily again. He loved Yamamoto but he just kept messing up, he wouldn't be surprised if Yamamoto was just as tired as he was in whatever this was they had between them. It wasn't that loving him was hard, Yamamoto made it pretty easy for him. It was everything else that came along with it. What was hard was all the obstacles that were in their way just for them to be together. It shouldn't have to be this difficult.

"Who was it?" Yamamoto asked, his face void of any emotion.

Hayato opened his mouth and sputtered but still nothing would come. "W-what?" was all he had managed.

Yamamoto released his hold on Hayato's chin and leaned over him with outstretched his arms, placing his palms flat on the wall on either side of Hayato's head. His face was so close Hayato could feel his warm shallow breath on his lips. He could also see the malignancy in Yamamoto's eyes, something dark and sinister. "I asked you, _who was it_." He didn't phrase it as a question, it was a demand for the truth.

Hayato felt nauseous and light headed, his chest constricting tighter and tighter as if a python had wrapped itself around his rip cage and continued to squeeze. "I..." He couldn't finish the sentence because he couldn't breathe. Between the fear he felt when he looked into Yamamoto's eyes and the remembrance of earlier events, he couldn't keep a hold on his mentality or his stability. He couldn't stop himself from reeling and he squeezed his eyes shut in hopes that the room would stop spinning and the panic attack he was having would subside.

"It was Mukuro, wasn't it?"

Hayato's breath hitched in his throat at the sound of his name and he could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He swallowed the bile rising up in his throat, disgusted and nauseated. The mere mention of his name, made Hayato's his skin crawl and guilt permeate his bones.

With his eyes still closed he only gave the slightest bit of a nod before he heard a feral growl right next to his ear and then Yamamoto's heat was gone. He wanted it back.

"I... I can't be here right now. I need to leave. I need to think." His voice was strained and Hayato could hear the indignation drip off every word.

Hayato bit back a sardonic retort and tried to focus on his breathing. He could hear footsteps around the apartment and they suddenly stopped short.

"That's it? You've got nothing else to say?" Yamamoto asked.

Hayato sighed. He had a lot more to say, first off with a slew of expletives regarding Yamamoto's mental stability and character and intelligence. And he wants to tell him that what happened meant nothing, it wasn't worth anything - certainly not worth them fighting and Yamamoto walking out. He wants to say that _yes, for a second I faltered, I fucked up. But you... you were the only one that I could think of in that moment because you are all that I want. You're what really matters. _

Even if he could just say it again, just tell Yamamoto that he loved him again, maybe he would understand that he didn't want any of what happened with Mukuro to happen. That he _was _faithful _because _he loved him.

But when he opened his mouth, nothing but stutters came out. He felt defeated. He wanted to offer Yamamoto something, but he didn't know what.

"When I get back, you're going to tell me _exactly _what happened. And I really hope it's not like what I've imagined."

Hayato bit his lip and nodded, knowing that he still wouldn't be ready to admit what happened by the time Takeshi would have returned.

Yamamoto paused at the door with his hand resting on the knob. Hayato could see most of the anger had left him and he wasn't sure if it was a good sign.

He looked over at Hayato and sighed. "I thought I meant more to you than one of your one night stands, Gokudera."

And then Yamamoto stepped out into the hallway and let the heavy door slam shut with a loud bang. Right on cue, Hayato's lungs seized and he choked. His heart wrenched tightly, the feeling was agonizing. It was unbearable and he felt like he could die. And it want that he was just hurt, he was livid too. Mostly at himself and how he had allowed Mukuro to do such things to him.

He felt dirty and disgusting and even though he's used to one night stands in dilapidated motels with strangers, he's never felt as repulsed with himself as he did in this moment.

He looked over at the shower and sized it up, thinking it looked as clean as it could given it's condition. Anything would be better than feeling like this right now, including bathing in a puddle of mud.

He let out a sigh and got up, undressing himself as he walked over to Yamamoto's dresser hoping there'd be something in there relatively decent to wear. Yamamoto's fashion sense wasn't exactly to his tastes.

He set his folded clothes on top of the dresser and felt strangely insecure about his nakedness in an apartment that didn't belong to him, even if it was Yamamoto's.

He rifled through the drawers and settled on a pair of blue track pants and a faded blue t-shirt. They definitely looked a fee sizes too big, which was natural considering Yamamoto was taller and heavier built than he was. Not by much though.

Just as he closed the third drawer, something caught his eye. Pulling it back out, he dug in and pulled out a pair of black framed glasses, exactly like the pair he had in his jacket, inside the evidence bag.

He frowned at the pair of glasses and turned them around in his hands. He hadn't noticed before but these pair had a silver sparrow on each of the arms right by the lenses.

He moved over to his jacket and pulled out the evidence bag but the frames in that bag were just solid black. Those were the ones he had been used to seeing Yamamoto wear.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but he did know that Yamamoto wasn't wearing his glasses today and that Mukuro claimed that this pair had been found at last night's crime scene. Hayato hadn't given it any thought since he left the station but he didn't believe these were Yamamoto's. They were just a generic pair of glasses that could have belonged to anyone.

But then again Yamamoto had lost a pair of glasses before these when he was attacked in Sakura Town.

Frustrated, he shoved the glasses back in his jacket and put the other pair back in the drawer where he found them. It hurt to think right now because he was focused on other issues, like how to fix things with Yamamoto. Never in his whole career had he ever thought he'd see the day where some guy made him see his work as a second priority.

Hayato just needed to ask Yamamoto about the glasses after they worked things out, hopefully not having to apologize too much and embarrass himself. Then he could figure out where the glasses came from and work on the case. He'd request for a transfer in the morning citing irreconcilable differences. He couldn't work with Mukuro, he refused to. He wasn't worth fighting with Yamamoto over, and by the way things were going, his career wasn't worth losing Yamamoto over either.

He hated himself for admitting it but it wasn't like he could deny anymore the way he felt. If he didn't just accept it and give in, their relationship would go nowhere and he'd be stuck in a standstill and he was tired of never moving forward.

First things first though, he needed to take a shower.

Hayato happened to pass by a cracked and dingy full length mirror glued to the wall and nearly choked at his reflection. He told himself it was the lighting, but he knew better.

His flesh was ashen and there were red and purple coloured blotches on his chest more than his actual skin colour showed through. He looked awful and could see why his sister had freaked out in the way that she had, even though she didn't even see the worst of the bruises and hickeys. The bandages were still on his wrists, lined brown from blood that had seeped through earlier in the day. He wasn't proud of these marks, definitely embarrassed by them, but he didn't hate them either. They were reminders of every experience that he and Yamamoto have shared since being together, the good and the bad.

And then his green eyes flitted up to his neck, where there were sizable purple and red and raw looking marks, some you could make out the teeth marks and some bled into one another from his ear to his Adam's apple on either side. They looked rather gross and unsightly and the memories attached to these marks were awful and made his stomach churn.

He twisted his mouth into a grimace and looked away from his horrid reflection, stepping into the tiled shower section of Yamamoto's shitty apartment and turned on the tap.

It made strange groan and knocking sound but no water came out. Hayato clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue and looked at the nozzle, reaching up to adjust it when the shower head shook violently and sprayed him in the face with ice cold water. Cursing vehemently, he threw a hand up in front of his fave to disperse the harsh spray of water while he adjusted the temperature. Finally he got it just right and just stood there for a few minutes, letting the water bleed out the tension in his aching back and shoulders. The heat felt good but it didn't warm the coldness he felt. But the steady stream of water was refreshing, like it was absolving him of all his polluted sins, especially the ones where he had indulged in such an immoral act with that shady and unscrupulous pineapple sonofabitch.

When he had finished washing, he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel he had set on the top of the toilet. He had been in there for a good half an hour and Yamamoto still hadn't returned.

He had never felt so lonely in his life, never as much as he did right now. This... this _pain _he felt everywhere; his heart, his chest, his head, his gut. This was why he didn't want to love anything. Because it hurt when it was taken away. Hayato wasn't a stranger to this feeling but he had spent a long time working on his fortitude to keep him from having to feel like that ever again. But then that stupid reporter had to come along with his bright smile and kind eyes behind thick framed glasses that had entrapped Hayato the first time he saw him. Then there was his touch, his kiss and everything else that had him falling out of control. And it wasn't just that simple. There was a reason Hayato hadn't just opened his heart to anyone before. It took everything that Yamamoto was, everything he did and for everything he accepted about Hayato that made him feel this way about him. And to think of having that taken away, knowing that it probably wouldn't happen again in his lifetime... well, Hayato couldn't decide it it would be a good thing or a bad thing.

What he did know was he was tired and empty and hurting and it didn't feel good. None of it did.

He dressed in Yamamoto's sweat pants, which were loose in the waist and draped over his feet. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and when the fabric passed his nose, he caught a whiff of Yamamoto's scent. He shamefully inhaled deeply and instantly relaxed. The shirt hung off his smaller frame but he was okay with that too. It was like he was so close to Yamamoto even though right now, he was so far away.

He hung up the towel on the clothes rack and lowered himself onto the mattress, pulling the blankets over him. Hayato still felt cold and he knew it was because he was missing the heat from the large body that was ever present at his side as of recently. He hugged into Yamamoto's pillow, still using his scent as his serenity.

Somewhere off in the distance, Hayato could hear the slow and steady drop of water, making a _plink! _sound as it hit it's surface. He found that odd because the apartment didn't even have a sink. There was probably a leak somewhere and he felt another pang in his chest.

_I really am the worst, _he thought miserably.

He took to taking in deep breaths of Yamamoto's scent, feeling exhausted. He tried to remain calm, but his creeping anxiety began to work itself through his body again. He was scared. Scared that his chance at happiness had just walked out of this shitty apartment and might never come back.

* * *

_A small boy, with light silver hair that rivaled the moonlight and large and round aquatic eyes that rivaled any clear coloured sea, came barreling down the large corridor with lightning speed._

_"Go away, Bianchi! I said I don't wanna play with you, meanie!" he cried, his voice echoing in the empty and hollow hallway. There wasn't anyone around to save him from his cruel sister, not like anyone would anyways._

_This place, his home that never felt like a home, was big and confusing. It was like a maze he couldn't find his way out of but it was helpful too. Here he found many hiding spots when he needed to get away from his sister, or his really mean mother._

_He whizzed by an opening in the wall that he hadn't noticed before because there had been a large ivory statue of some weird looking man with no arms and a fat face. He doubled back and ducked in, waiting to hear the footfalls of his sister resounding off the Italian marble. He listened well but couldn't hear anything over the hard beating of his heart and his heavy breathing. After a moment of silence and he had calmed down, he relaxed. His sister didn't follow him after all.._

_He was about to leave when he heard the sound of muffled voices coming from the darkness that went beyond the opening of the hidden hallway. Straining, the boy listened hard but couldn't make out the sounds of the disembodied mumbling._

_Most normal five year old boys would be afraid of the dark, maybe monsters under their beds and in closets, but this little boy was different. He had a vast thirst for knowledge and his curiosity was a dangerous thing. He was excited to have discovered a yet another hidden space within the castle he could use to his advantage._

_He peered into the black passageway and squinted but saw no light. He tiptoed towards the sounds carefully. It seemed to take forever, but eventually he reached the end of the hallway where a dim light emanated. He came to a fork in the corridor and the left passage had light pulsating through the darkness. The boy crept towards it and saw that on the walls there were candles lit along the way, giving off a warm orange glow. _

_The boy stopped short in his tracks when he noticed an outline of a person sitting on a stone bench outside a closed door. He should have been apprehensive about approaching the shadowy blob, but his curiosity got the better of him. As he got closer, the silver haired boy noticed that the figure was a little boy, not much bigger than he was, illuminated by the orange pools of candlelight._

_The other boy looked over at him and startled._

_"It's okay," the silver haired boy whispered. "I live here. I'm not a ghost. Though that would be kinda cool huh." He stepped closer and squinted to get a better look at the young boy in front of him._

_He had blue hair, messy and unruly in the back and chopped up in the front that framed his face. He was dressed in a worn white t-shirt and tattered brown pants and dirty sneakers with no laces. But what the green eyed boy noticed most was the other boy had a black patch over his right eye._

_"Woah, are you a pirate?" asked the silver haired boy excitedly._

_The blue haired boy looked at him in confusion but said nothing._

_"Hey, what's your name? Mine's Luciano," he said with a broad smile, hoping to let the other boy know he was friendly._

_The blue haired boy, who also had one blue eye opened his mouth to say something but then shut it again. He shrugged._

_"Eh? You don't know your name?" Luciano asked innocently and with surprise._

_The blue haired boy shook his head. _

_Luciano inched over to the bench and motioned to it. "Can I sit with you?"_

_He looked up at Luciano with careful consideration and nodded slowly. Luciano took a seat next to the boy on the bench and noticed the door beside it was slightly ajar and that's where he heard the voices. They were still inaudible but they were loud. It sounded like they were arguing. Luciano ignored it and decided to focus on the boy beside him._

_"Heh, you don't talk much do you? That's okay, I don't either when my folks are around. They're kinda grouchy. Did you come here with your parents?" Luciano looked him over again and noticed he looked very skinny and pale, now that he was closer to the little boy. Well, not so little, because the boy was taller than he was. And the hair in the back of his head looked strange, licking out in several directions looking oddly like a pineapple, which made Luciano want to laugh. Except he didn't because the boy seemed really shy and he didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable._

_The other boy thought for a moment and shook his head._

_"Oh... so, you don't know your name and your not here with your mom and dad. Are you lost? This place is kinda big, but I can help you find your way out of it if you want."_

_The boy's eye widened and he shook his head violently. _

_"It's okay!" Luciano whispered, holding his hands up in defense. He didn't mean to scare him. "We can go play in my room then, if you want. Or we could go outside and fly my kite!"_

_The boy's eye was still wide but he didn't look scared anymore, just a little confused. But he quickly shook his head again._

_Luciano frowned. "Oh, okay. Kids don't come here much so i got a little happy that you might wanna play with me. But it's okay if you don't want to. I'll sit here with you instead, until whatever you're waiting for comes. Is... that okay?"_

_He saw the boy's lips twitch into a small smile and he opened his mouth again. "O-okay," he said quietly. _

_"Wah, so you can talk!" Luciano gushed happily. "Say, is it really true you don't have a name?"_

_"S-Se-Seventeen," the boy answered._

_Luciano furrowed his brow. This boy just was so weird but it made him interested in the strange boy even more. He was curious to know all about him. "Eh?"_

_"T-that's w-what th-they c-call m-me," he stuttered. "Se-Seventeen."_

_Luciano found it difficult to understand the boy so he took a minute to process the sentence in his head before blurting, "Hah? That's a strange name! It's a number, haha."_

_The boy, Seventeen, drew back and frowned and Luciano noticed right away. "No, no, no! I wasn't making fun of you. I think it's kinda cool."_

_He watched the boy smile a little bit more. "R-really?"_

_Luciano nodded enthusiastically. "Really! Hey, if you're not a pirate then, what happened to your eye?"_

_Seventeen's frail hand reached up and touched the patch over his right eye. "O-oh, I-I-I ha-had a s-s-su-surgery," he said mildly._

_"Ooh. Like, did they cut your eye open and stuff?" Luciano asked, scooting closer and leaning in._

_The boy looked mortified but sad at the same time. He nodded. "I-it's n-n-not t-there a-any-m-m-more."_

_"Waah, that's so cool! Can I see it?"_

_Suddenly the door next to the bench flew open and a large man stepped out. "Luciano?! What are you doing here?" It was his father's deep voice booming and nearly making the boys jump out of their skin._

_"I-I was running away from Bianchi and I found this place and I saw this boy and I asked him to play with me," he said quickly, looking down at the ground._

_"This boy? Get away from him, he's not fit to be around. Don't forget your status in this house, Luciano. You can't be hanging around things like this," his father snapped._

_"Th-that's not very nice, Father! This boy is cool! Why can't I play with him?"_

_"Go to your room," his father demanded._

_"No!" Luciano shouted defiantly. "I like this boy and I want to play with him!"_

_His father took another step outside the door and Luciano felt Seventeen cower into him. His blue hair brushed his cheek and Luciano thought for as sharp and knotty as it looked, it felt really soft. His father was scaring the little boy and he already seemed to be scared as it was, his father didn't have to be so mean and make it worse._

_"Go. To. Your. Room," his father enunciated angrily._

_"You can't make me!" he yelled, putting his arms around the boy to protect him. "Stop yelling, you're scaring my friend!"_

_The boy startled at his touch and Luciano could feel Seventeen's heart beating really fast underneath his arms._

_"You," Luciano's father seethed, pointing a finger at the blue haired boy. "Get in that room with your master, you bad little brat! No one said you were allowed to talk!"_

_Seventeen nodded quickly and timidly and moved away from Luciano. _

_"No!" he cried, holding the blue haired boy back into his small chest and gripping his shirt. "Don't talk to him like that! He's not a bad boy, he didn't do anything wrong! It's my fault, it's my fault!"_

_"I-I-It's o-okay," the boy murmured softly. "I-I ha-have t-t-to g-go." _

_"No," Luciano whined, tears rolling down his cheeks. He really felt scared for the little boy. He didn't know what was going to happen but he felt like it was something bad. "Don't go."_

_"Enough!" His father grabbed the thin, blue haired boy by the arm and ripped him out of Luciano's grasp. Seventeen made a strangle garbled sound before he was tossed into the room and his father slammed the door shut. _

_"I've had enough of your mouth, you little shit. How dare you disrespect me in my house! And while I'm doing business, no less! I don't have time for you right now, but you better get your ass to your room and wait for me, because I'm going to give you a trimming like you've never had in your life."_

_Luciano's eyes went wide, still wet with tears. _

_"And stop your crying, you look like a little pansy. You're a man, Luciano. Men don't cry."_

_Luciano nodded__ sharply._

_"Now get out of here and don't you dare say a word about this to anyone or your punishment will be far worse!"_

_Luciano nodded again and slid off the bench. He waited for his father to step back into the room before he began walking, slowly at first but when he heard a loud cracking sound and Seventeen's bloodied and strangled cries, he took off running down the hallway, crying hysterically._

_He vowed to take responsibility and never forget the boy with the blue hair and the one eye, who looked like he just needed a friend and all Luciano did was get him hurt. One day he would find that boy and tell him that he was sorry and ask if they could be friends again__ and protect the boy from all the bad things._

_Hayato woke up with a start_, _feeling_ _sad and lonely. He tried to remember the dream he just had but all he could remember we're the cries of a little boy that he had already forgotten the face of._

_Looking around, he realized that he was in a large four poster bed that looked similar to his own when he was a child. It couldn't be that though, he was older and had long since ran away from this place that left him with a bitter taste in his mouth._

_But looking at the thick and fluffy goose down comforter and the crisp Italian linen, it was undoubtedly his bed and sheets. Confused he looked around the room and saw everything the way it was when he was younger. All his books on math and science, his extravagant world globe and telescope, even his expensive chemistry set._

_Now even more confused, he wondered how the hell he got here. Or maybe he was still dreaming and needed to pinch himself to wake him._

_Out of the corner of his eye, something underneath the large blanket stirred and up until now he hadn't noticed anyone or anything else in the bed._

_Feeling a little bit anxious but all the same curious, he leaned over the heap under the blankets and saw just a small tuft of hair. He only noticed it because the monochromatic blue contrasted the stark white of the bed sheets._

_Anxiety and nausea now heavy in his stomach, he choked back the bile that slicked his tongue._

_The person moved and the blankets shifted, revealing pale ivory skin like his own and long flowing blue hair that curved around a bony shoulder like a serpent's tail._

_Hayato felt like he was going to be sick. He was suddenly aware that he and the blue haired man were naked under the sheets and that made him feel wildly insecure and vulnerable._

_The man turned over and Hayato nearly threw up__. He choked on a strangled gasp._

_The man's eyes fluttered open and he looked over at Hayato and smiled softly. "Lu-Luciano, yo-you're a-awake."_

_Hayato blinked several times to make sure what he was thinking wasn't being deceived by his eyes. When he opened them finally and focused, sure enough what he saw was mind fucking._

_There in his bed was Mukuro, but it wasn't Mukuro. His features were soft and his voice was the same but had a bad stutter to it. He wasn't at all sly looking and devious, he looked innocent and kind and most of all, normal. His right eye was blue too, except a different shade than his left, instead of the red eye Hayato was used to._

_And did he just call him Luciano?_

_"M-Mu-Mukuro," he gagged._

_The man, Mukuro but not Mukuro, knitted his brow quizzically. "W-who? D-did you have a b-b-bad dream a-g-gain?" He looked worriedly at Hayato and stroked his cheek. His fingers were soft and left a trail of heat along his skin. Nothing like slimy feeling when the real Mukuro touched him._

_The 'other' Mukuro propped himself up on his elbows and Hayato could see deep criss crossed scars on nearly every inch of his chest. He leaned over and kissed Hayato's closed mouth tentatively. When Hayato didn't respond because he was frozen from shock, the blue haired man pulled away and frowned._

_"M-must have b-b-been a b-b-ad one. One ab-bout your D-d-dad?"_

_And with a creeping realization, Hayato remembered. He remembered everything about the dream he just had, about the little boy with the bad stutter. The little boy with the eye patch and sad smile who's cries haunted his dreams for many, many months. The little boy who was beaten and lashed by his father and an unseen person in that hidden room beyond the dark corridor._

_Hayato turned quickly over the other edge of the bed and threw up all over the expensive Persian rug._

_"L-Luciano?!" the man's voice, soft and sweet full of worry and not at all like the sinister and mischievous voice of__ the other Mukuro, called out to him._

_He felt a soft and warm hand sliding up his back and began rubbing soothing circles on his cold flesh._

_"Don't t-touch... me," choked Hayato, still spewing his stomach contents onto the carpet._

_"L-Luciano?" his voice, it sounded hurt. Not rich with arrogance like the other Mukuro. But they were the same person, there was no doubt._

_Either he was dreaming again or he was stuck in some alternative reality. He didn't know what the fuck was going on, his head was all messed up and he felt like he was being played, like he was a character in a really bad game controlled by a person with a really sick imagination._

_"I-it's okay. Wh-what happened wasn't your fault, I-I f-forgive you rem-m-mem-ber? I l-love you, L-Luciano.__" The man left a fluttering kiss on his shoulder._

_Hearing those words in Mukuro's voice, here and naked in his childhood bed he thought that this had to be a dream. He didn't love this person, who he loved was someone else. A man he could only faintly recall, with shining hazel eyes and a bright, wide smile. A man that called him 'Hayato' and touched him with love and affection. But was that only a dream? Was that man who he couldn't remember the name of some figment of his overactive imagination?_

_"We're... we're not l-lovers," Hayato stammered, spittle dripping from his lips and tears flowing from his eyes. "I-I don't even know you!"_

_The fake Mukuro gripped his shoulders but this time, his hands felt different. They were cold and grimy and sinful on his bare skin._

_"Don't touch me!" he shouted, so sick that he felt he could die in that very instant. So disgusted that not even a thousand showers could cleanse the filth he felt. "You're not my lover, you're not even my friend!"_

_He felt the man lean over his back_ _and laugh in his ear. And when he heard that signature chuckle, he cringed and wretched._

_"Kufufu, what's the matter? Have you already forgotten about_ _me?"_

_"Don't touch me," Hayato pleaded, sick with guilt because know he remembered everything. But it was all a mess and he didn't know what was real and what was a dream._

_"Oya, Luciano... we're more than friends, aren't we? We're perhaps star-crossed lovers, here in a different time. In a parallel universe, our future. This is what could have been, had you not left me."_

_Hayato gagged and choked but couldn't move, he couldn't pull away from the man who had dug his dirty talons into his flesh. Mukuro whispered in Hayato's ear something he couldn't quite register and suddenly he felt the wet heat of Mukuro's tongue on the shell of his ear._

_"Kufu... your skin tastes delicious."_

_He screamed as darkness engulfed him._

"Hayato! Hayato! Wake up!"

He felt hands on his shoulders, strong and heavy, shaking him briskly.

"No, get off me!" Hayato screamed, his eyes ripping open. He jolted upright and thrashed, trying to rid himself of Mukuro's dirty hands on his body when he realized they weren't Mukuro's. They were Yamamoto's.

"T-Takeshi?" he asked, dazed and confused. His heart still raced and he blinked several times to clear away the fog in front of his eyes.

"Hey," Yamamoto answered. His eyes were round with concern and his mouth was quirked into a small frown. "Are you okay?"

He must have fallen asleep in Yamamoto's apartment. He was currently sitting on the flat and worn out futon and Yamamoto was kneeling in front of him. It was just a dream, a nightmare. This is Hayato's reality. That Yamamoto was here, touching him and the tight grip he had on his shoulders, holding him steady was tangible enough for him to believe so. That Yamamoto was indeed the man he was supposed to be with.

An overwhelming surge of relief flooded him and he fell into Yamamoto, wrapping his arms around him and not caring in this instant that he's supposed to be reserved with his feelings.

Yamamoto nearly fell backward with surprise and chuckled. "Well, that was unexpected. What were you dreaming about that's got you like this?"

Hayato looked up at him and considered telling him everything, but that would mean he'd have to reveal parts of his past that Yamamoto might not accept. With every story he had came another more dangerous story, including the one where the Bovino men were after his and his sister's lives, and quite possibly Takeshi's too.

He pictured Yamamoto telling him that was just too much for him to accept and that he was going to leave, who would want to stay in a relationship with such a dangerous person? And now on top of everything else, the nightmare he had made him feel like there was more to Mukuro's agenda then just acting as a bureau agent on this serial homicide case. It wasn't a conceited conclusion, but Hayato was pretty sure, now that he was aware of who Mukuro really was and where he came from, that he had some sort of obsession with him.

Maybe he wanted to be lovers, maybe he wanted to destroy his life. Maybe he did want Hayato all to himself and was jealous of Yamamoto, who knows? The theories sounded ridiculous to Hayato but whatever the case was, he was sure Mukuro was going to continue to cause more problems for him.

He'd have to tell Takeshi everything but now wasn't the right time. He found solace in Yamamoto's arms and he didn't want to let go.

"Nothing," he murmured, face pressed into Yamamoto's chest. "Just a bad dream."

Yamamoto laughed quietly and ran his hand through Hayato's hair. "Now who's sounding like a little kid?"

"Shut up," Hayato grumbled.

Yamamoto circled his arms around Hayato and squeezed tightly. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said with a kiss to Hayato's head.

"Me too." Hayato pulled back and chewed his lip. He was going to have to be serious now, no more fucking around. No more confusion. He had to let Yamamoto know how he felt because if he didn't, they'd always fight like this and neither one of them would feel secure. "I... didn't really mean all those things I said earlier. Well, mostly. You are kind of stupid and dumb, sometimes."

"Ma, so romantic, Hayato. That was really, such a sincere apology," said Yamamoto with a grin. "But as long as we're being honest, you can be too. And! Before you go trying to beat me up, just let me explain. What I had meant earlier was that... You're so closed off when it comes to everything, you never let me in. I never know what Gokudera is thinking or feeling. I can't help but feel uneasy all the time. And, knowing a bit of your past with those guys... it's really hard to deal with. I want to trust Gokudera. I _do _trust Gokudera but... you make it hard sometimes."

Hayato felt a twinge in his heart. He was a logical man, he knew and made sense of everything Yamamoto was trying to say. He was like that because he was afraid of getting hurt, opening up to someone and having them destroy all those happy feelings inside you when you finally trust them. It wasn't something Hayato had wanted to live through again.

"I know," he said. "But what I said earlier... I meant it. All of it, even the bad parts. I... I am yours, and I want to be, but you can't flip out like that everytime you get a little insecure. I'm not always going to be this open, this is me. I'm an asshole, I'm mean and arrogant and usually pretty selfish. And I'm new at all of this. I've been on my own, just me for a very long time and they only person that knows anything about me is Tsuna... and he doesn't even know _everything. _I keep to myself, I don't like talking about my personal affairs and I like my freedom and personal space. And... I'm not stupid, I know things like that need to change just a little, there needs to be compromise..." He drew in a deep breath because he was about to put a label on what they shared despite his beliefs. "... in a relationship, so I will try. But... don't expect much. At least for the first little while."

Yamamoto's eyes were wide in front of him, and Hayato knew he picked up on that. Takeshi knows that he doesn't make commitments and here he was, making several.

He grinned and threw his arms around Hayato, kissing his cheek and nose. "Really? You really mean that?"

Hayato choked out a scoff and a laugh and pushed Yamamoto away. "Well, yeah. You're like a lost puppy who's come back time and time again after it's been shown some humanity. I just had to feed you - metaphorically speaking - and you kept on coming back. It can't be helped seeing that I can't seem to get rid of you that easily," he jived with a smirk.

"Metaphorically speaking huh?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"The puppy saw his kindness even though he was really mean sometimes and that's what really kept him coming back." Yamamoto smiled at him broadly and Hayato couldn't stop the redness that spread through his face.

"You're really cute when you blush like that." Yamamoto grabbed Hayato by the shirt and reeled him in, kissing him.

"Bastard," Hayato growled.

"You look really cute in my clothes too," Yamamoto said with a chuckle.

"Sometimes you make me really want to punch you," Hayato remarked.

Yamamoto kissed him again, this time with more force, desperate and yearning. Hayato could feel everything pour off Takeshi's lips; lust, longing, love, forgiveness, remorse, happiness; all at once. He had been a stranger to most, but knowing how they felt now himself made it easier for him to convey exactly the same feelings when he pulled Yamamoto down on the bed with him, returning the kiss just as deep.

Yamamoto broke free from the kiss and stripped himself of his shirt and slid his rough hands up the shirt Hayato wore. He propped himself up on his elbows and allowed Yamamoto to lift the shirt up over his head before he began kissing his chisled chest. Takeshi curled his fingers into his hair and clutched at the roots but not hard enough to cause him pain. They were moving slow and Hayato found he liked it this way just as much as he liked it any other way. As long as it was with Yamamoto, it didn't matter.

He took a nipple into his mouth and kneaded softly with his teeth, eliciting a pleasurable groan from the man that straddled his lap. He held on to Takeshi with a firm arm wrapped around his back and fingers pressed hard into his flesh. His other hand rubbed Takeshi's stiffness behind his blue denim jeans.

Yamamoto lifted Hayato's head so that he could bend down to kiss him again, his soft and sweet tongue sweeping across Hayato's lips. He kissed down his chin and along his jaw and everywhere else but his neck. Hayato didn't blame him for not wanting to put his mouth where another man had but it disappointed him all the same.

He worked open Yamamoto's button and tugged his jeans down onto his hips, hooking his thumbs into his cotton boxers and he peeled those down too. Yamamoto's hardened cock sprang free and Hayato took it in his hand and began to stroke it in long and slow lengths.

"Gokudera," Yamamoto moaned in his ear before looming over him completely as he falls back on to the bed.

Hayato loses his grip on Takeshi's cock but it's not without cause as Yamamoto slips his hands beneath the cotton sweat pants he's wearing and pulls them down, leaning back so that he pulls them right off of his feet. He hums when he sees that Hayato is bare underneath.

"So sexy," he utters, partway through a growl and a wistful breath.

Hayato can feel himself get hot, his entire body flushes with warmth and though he feels insecure with the exposure, even if he really hasn't before, he smirks and gives Yamamoto a command.

"Your pants, take them off."

Yamamoto returns his smirk with one of his own and stands on the flat mattress, divesting himself of the constricting denim. Hayato sits fully upright and plants his hands on Yamamoto's ass, gripping them firmly as he takes all of Takeshi into his mouth. He works his mouth over the silky flesh, swirling his tongue down the length and Yamamoto's hands fly up into his hair once more, clutching handfulls.

He hisses and moans and Hayato's eyes flitter up to the man above him. He watches as Yamamoto stares down at him, moving a hand along his face and cupping his chin so that Hayato is forced to keep his head still while Yamamoto fucks his mouth. His brown is furrowed in deep concentration and focus but Hayato can see the lust pooling in his eyes. He bites on his lip and hisses when Hayato swallows him down to the root and sucks back, never taking his eyes of Takeshi.

He releases his hold on Hayato's chin and pushes him back down on the bed. He works his way down Hayato's chest, leaving a damp trail with his tongue and only nipping gently at his flesh before he gives Hayato's cock it's much needed attention.

Yamamoto sucks and pulls and licks at his cock and Hayato holds down his head, moaning and swearing incoherently as he does. He bucks and rocks his pelvis up into his mouth and Yamamoto does nothing to hold him down. With a few more downward and up strokes, Hayato is ready to come. And Yamamoto must sense his impending crash because he stops just before Hayato does and he's glad because he wants to come _with_ Takeshi, not before.

Hayato is sure, this time, he's ready. If he can't say those three words as freely as he'd like to, he at least wants to show Yamamoto. It's the only thing Hayato is good at, expressing himself through actions rather than words and Yamamoto will understand. Even though Hayato was sure that he didn't have a clue before this, Yamamoto actually knows him pretty well. At least he's sure Yamamoto can read him and is beginning to understand him. Maybe that's just how this relationship is supposed to work and it makes Yamamoto one step closer to completing him, as corny as that sounds. Because there's a reason he's so drawn to Yamamoto. He's the only person with enough love and enough patience to deal with Hayato and for that Hayato appreciates him even more. He could just never bring himself to tell the baseball idiot that. Actions definitely speak louder than words.

Yamamoto leans over him again, kissing him softly on his lips and nose. Before he can open his mouth, Hayato puts a finger over it and looks at him, determined. And before Hayato can get the words out, his face is already flushed, matching the soft pink hue that tints the rest of his sweat glistened skin.

Yamamoto looks down at him, perplexed and Hayato chews on his bottom lip. He knows what he wants to say, he just doesn't know how to say it. Not without sounding wonton and femine and needy. He can't waste much time, both of them are so close to coming and he doesn't want to ruin the mood so without meeting Yamamoto's eyes, he mutters his request under his breath.

And of course, Yamamoto being the idiot he is, has to ask him to repeat himself.

Hayato growls and looks back at Yamamoto, and this time he says it with sureity because now he's just impatient and annoyed. "I want you to fuck me, you bastard. _Now,_" he says with conviction and a little perturbation. Yamamoto's eyes widen just a little and he unsuspectedly smashes his lips against Hayato's, forcing him back into the pillow.

He expects Yamamoto to ask questions, but he doesn't. He just kisses Hayato deeply, his tongue sliding lazily around his mouth. Hayato realizes he understands, Hayato's request is more than just that, it's an admittance to how he truthfully feels. Yamamoto breaks away from the kiss, sliding his hand through Hayato's hair before he begins looking around his room. Finally he gets up and struts to his makeshift kitchen and comes back with a bottle of oil. Hayato is embarrassed to say the least but he's past the point of no return and he isn't going to stop now.

He doesn't say anything and neither does Yamamoto. He's assuming Takeshi's silence is because he's still so dumbfounded by Hayaro's relinquish of control and he's afraid to ruin the moment by saying something stupid.

Yamamoto doesn't waste any time spreading Hayato's legs after licking and kissing his way from Hayato's mouth down to his ass. Hayato knows it's going to hurt and it's going to feel uncomfortable but it's a mind over matter situation. It felt good after a while the first time, so he just has to focus on the pleasure and not the pain. If that stupid idiot could handle it, could handle _him_, than so could he.

Takeshi spent a little more time on Hayato's dick, strocking and licking and dipping his tongue into the slit to lap up the pre-cum that beaded there. He then felt the oil on the crease of his ass, slick and cool as Yamamoto trailed his finger along, teasing his hole and rubbing circles around it. He moaned and tugged on Takeshi's hair, not knowing how much more of this torturous build up he'd be able to take.

"Come on, Takeshi. _Come on_," Hayato growled, lifting his hips.

Yamamoto chuckled around his cock, sending the resounding vibration straight through him that nearly made him come. And then he felt the pressure, slow and probing and he instinctively tensed until Yamamoto kissed his thigh and whispered, 'Relax_, _baby," wetly against his skin. It made his skin prickle and the heat in his belly mount higher.

As strange and unfitting as it was for him to turn over complete control and as shameful as it was to hear Yamamoto call him _baby_, it seemed to relax him and he loosened up allowing for Yamamoto's second finger to slide in, just as slow and tenative as the first. He moved his fingers effortlessly and Hayato tilted his hips, backing into the fingers that fucked his ass. It hurt a little but it felt good, and Yamamoto's soft kisses and sharp nips to his inner thighs helped.

He caought himself before a needy _please _floated off his lips as he writhed underneath Yamamoto, cursing and muttering incoherently to God and anyone who was listening.

"Hayato... I can't wait anymore," Yamamoto said suddenly, and Hayato could read the desperation in his eyes.

Panting and a hot mess, he stuttered, "M-me either."

Yamamoto's eyes flashed with a predatory glint, but only for a second until Hayato edges him on. If that kind of destitute display is what's needed for Yamaomoto to get things moving out of this eternally and teasingly slow frottage, then that's what Hayato will give him. He's too far gone to give a fuck about his pride or reservations or anything else for that matter.

"Fuck me, Takeshi," he moans. His voice is raspy and dripping with want.

Yamamoto smirks and Hayato know's he's got the right one when he pours a dime of oil into the palm of his hand and slicks it over his cock, steady watching Hayato as he does so. He's putting on a show and Hayato chews on his lip in anticipation. He strokes his cock slow and Hayato finds himself reaching for his own dick and pumping in tandem. And that's when Yamamoto lunges for him, his features wild and he hooks his arms under Hayato's thighs, yanking him down and draping his legs over his shoulders, lining his cock up against Hayato's ass.

"Hurry up, you bastard," Hayato growls.

Yamamoto smirks, that mischievous dark smirk, and replies, "As you wish, Hayato."

This head of Yamamoto's cock stretches him and it burns, but he relishes in it. He moves slow, pressing his body against Hayato's thighs and the sensation of Yamamoto filling him is overwhelming to say the least but it feels right. It hurts but Hayato is focused on the end result, when Takeshi is fucking him hard into the flat mattress in this barren apartment and he finally gets the much wanted release he's been waiting for.

The ache in his thighs hurt almost as much as Yamamoto entering him, but with a sharp thrust, Yamamoto is hilted and Hayato can't stop himself from crying out.

Yamamoto pauses but Hayato looks up at him, strong in his fortitude. Yamamoto's eyes are losing their mesmerizing fury, that spark of black that Hayato seems to love. He knows that Yamamoto's thinking he's in pain but he doesn't want to lose the momentum they have right now. Things are speeding up, becoming rough and forceful and raw and that's exactly what Hayato wants. If he's going to be fucked this way, he'll be damned if he does it slow and gentle like a woman.

"Don't stop," he says, almost pleadingly and that's enough to ignite the fire in his eyes again and Yamamoto's face goes feral. He snaps his hips hard and pulls back, He does it again and Hayato grips the bed sheets, white knuckled and bloodless.

"Shit," he moans and he can feel something wet stream down his cheeks and Yamamoto's leans in, applying an undesirable pull in Hayato's hamstrings. He sweeps his tongue across Hayato's cheeks tasting the salt-flat of his tears and Hayato grabs a fistful of Yamamoto's soft and spiky hair and smashes their lips together, using the kiss as a distraction from the pain.

Yamamoto feels good inside him, the way he thrusts is hard but it feels incredible and every other one seems to hit the spot that makes Hayato's vision blur and all he sees is blinding white. The sensation feels amazing, it sends ripples down his spine in electric currents. Yamamoto's tongue tastes delicious in his mouth and when Yamamoto's cock grazes his prostate again, he groans, an unspoken command to do it once more. He can feel the heat coiling in his belly begin to unravel in rapid succession as each nudge on the sensitve nerves sends a sharp jolt of electircity that explodes on every individual vertebrae of his spine.

He clings to Yamamoto, digging his nails into the knots of muscle in Yamamoto's shoulders and spits out his given name breathlessly as he comes. Yamamoto holds him tight and tenses, shudders and cries out as he follows suit. He collapses onto Hayato and tries to catch a breath. Hayato gasps for air too, his lungs greedily sucking in oxygen like he's forgotten to breathe for the last hour. He was reeling and exhausted and finally sated.

"H-heavy," he complained and Yamamoto startled.

"Oh, right. Haha, sorry." He lifted himself off of Hayato and slipped out, rolling on to the small mattress.

Hayato winced and hissed and Yamamoto looked over at him and frowned. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Mhm," Hayato hummed. He wanted to curl into Yamamoto and make up for the day's events and sleep them all away, but he had work to do. He couldn't sleep now if he had to be in by nine. There were still the case files and the matter of Yamamoto's glasses he needed to attend to. He groaned.

"Gokudera?"

"It's nothing... I don't want to work tomorrow," he muttered.

Yamamoto chuckled. "That's a first, you usually make that your top priority."

"Yeah, well..."

Yamamoto fell silent and looked away. "Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want to go in either. I really don't want you to either, but I'm not going to ask you not to."

Hayato sighed. "I'm going to speak to Tsuna about getting a transfer. Once I solve this case, we'll be rid of that fucking pineapple bastard."

"So he'll leave... once the killer is caught?"

"Yeah, I'm hoping so. Anyways, I should get to work on that... but ugh, I need another shower."

"You gonna wear my clothes again? I don't know what would be erotic... seeing you walk around naked or in my clothes," Yamamoto said suggestively.

Hayato flicked him in the forehead. "No more of that kind of talk, you perverted bastard. I have to work."

"But you could just stay in bed with me," Yamamoto whined, flopping over on his side and nuzzling into Hayato.

"Tch, unlike you some of us don't have the luxury of being lazy baseball idiots. Besides, I'm not that tired," Hayato said with a yawn which only made Yamamoto laugh. Even as he said that, his eye lids felt heavy. The truth was he didn't want to go to sleep. He didn't want to have anymore of those terrifying dreams. But being wrapped in Yamamoto's warmth was comforting and lulling and Hayato closed his eyes. Just a few more minutes of this would be okay.

The following day was going to be an overwhelming one, a day he wasn't looking forward to. He'd have to face Bianchi and Shamal before he actually made it in to the station and he planned on avoiding Mukuro at all costs. Until he was ready to reveal that he knew who Mukuro was and what he wanted with him.

Soon he was listening to the soft snores coming from Yamamoto and he allowed the tiniest of a smile to grace his face. Despite everything else, he was truly happy for once, right here in this moment. He had someone who loved and accepted him for everything that he was and his career back, even if that posed a problem. It was something he was determined to deal with, because he'd be damned if he let anyone ruin this for him.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Yamamoto's sleeping face. He looked so content and peaceful and Hayato felt his heart swell. He lifted a hesitant hand and stroked Yamamoto's cheek before closing his eyes once more to drift off into sleep.

And before he did, he whispered, "I love you."


	21. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XXI

_**Chapter XXI**_

* * *

Hayato had only managed to sleep for an hour and woke up sore and aching. He still had no idea why men wanted to do this sort of thing, it was embarrassing and painful. Sure it didn't hurt _as much_ as the first time and after a while the pain starts to dull out leaving more room for pleasure but it still fucking hurt. Hayato had to seriously commend the men who bottomed. Yamamoto made it look easy, he never complained and he never seemed to be put out from it afterwards. Either he was used to it or he had a high tolerance for pain and since Hayato trusted that he was Yamamoto's first, he assumed the latter. He thought his tolerance for pain was high but apparently not for this kind of pain. Nope. Hayato was uncomfortable and he felt weird and he really didn't trust himself to walk around and not look like a fool. Still, he had to get shit done and thankfully Yamamoto slept through his awkward hobbling around the apartment while he cleaned up and showered.

Later, he sat back down on the edge of the futon and set the files he had on the murders on the square, wooden coffee table and tried to look over them but he was too distracted to get into his work. Yamamoto's soft snores made him want to crawl back into bed and go back to sleep. He didn't want to leave the cocoon of warmth that had enveloped him between the blankets and Yamamoto but worked called to him and he needed to get on that. He couldn't afford any more mistakes.

He debated looking over the information on Mukuro first but he felt that would be best when he could devote the time to read everything in detail and work from it. He'd also have to talk to Shamal about the Estraneo and what kind of work they involved themselves in. Using his dream as a base for his theory, he guessed they might have been into human trafficking or something like that. Something had happened to the young Mukuro and Hayato was going to get to the bottom of that too. But first he needed to solve the case, or at least figure some things out that would bring them closer to apprehending a suspect.

He heard Yamamoto stir behind him. A minute after there were arms wrapping around his waist.

"Mm... good morning," Yamamoto hummed in his ear.

Hayato grunted in response but leaned into Yamamoto's anyways. He always smelled so inviting. It made Hayato imagine himself lying in a field of grass; the sun beaming down and prickling his skin with it's intensity but the warm Japanese breeze would give him solace from the heat and the cicadas would chirp lazily in the distance. He reminded Hayato of peace and everything that was good and beautiful about the world.

"You look very sexy in those glasses," Yamamoto whispered seductively, his baritone voice still so smooth and playful even though it was fresh from sleep.

"F'ck off," Hayato mumbled through a lazy grin.

"Mm, you sure you want to get on the subject of fucking right now?"

As much as he'd love to, Hayato had too much work to do and not enough time. "Tch. You're a fuckin' pervert."

"And you love it."

"First thing in the morning, honestly. What a guy."

Yamamoto laughed and kissed down the nape of his neck, pulling down the collar of the worn cotton t-shirt that Hayato wore and kissed between his shoulder blades. Hayato shivered.

"Don't you get like this first thing in the morning too? I just wanna help you with that." Yamamoto curled one hand up his shirt and rubbed over Hayato's nipple.

"Yamamoto," he warned.

It didn't stop him as he continued to kiss along Hayato's now exposed shoulder. Yamamoto's hands dipped dangerously low, teasingly brushing over his lap. Hayato stiffened with the contact and he definitely became aware of a growing problem. He let out a groan that was meant to sound frustrated but Yamamoto took it as an invitation to slip a hand beneath the waistband of the sweat pants and graze it leisurely across his cock.

"Mm... Yamamoto. Work," Hayato murmured and he turned his head so that he could glare at him but as soon as he did, Yamamoto's full lips met his. He felt long fingers wrap around his dick as he closed his eyes and worked his tongue in through Yamamoto's mouth. The heat from their breath fogged up his glasses and he closed his eyes, letting Yamamoto do as he pleased. He wanted to stop, but not really. Yamamoto was too good at everything he did, especially making him lose his resolve and Hayato hated that but he couldn't deny that he didn't hate the way Yamamoto's hand on his cock felt, igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

"Fuck," was the word that fluidly slipped off his lips when Yamamot's grip became a little tighter and his strokes a little quicker paced. Hayato could feel Yamamoto's hardness press against his back as he pulled him in so that Hayato was haphazardly lying in his lap while Yamamoto jerked him off. Hayato arched his back and tilted his own chip up so that he could kiss Yamamoto to keep from anymore breathless sounds coming from his mouth but all that resulted in was him whimpering against Yamamoto's soft and pliant lips.

He thrust into Yamamoto's hand, panting and moaning as Yamamoto flicked his wrist faster and nibbled the shell of his ear, breathing heatedly against his neck.

"Mm, so erotic. I love that voice," Yamamoto crooned, throaty and rich.

"Sh-shut up," Hayato stammered. He dug blunt nails into Yamamoto's thighs, leaving behind half-moons in his skin. Yamamoto thumbed the slit of his cock, smoothing precum around the head. Hayato felt tremors wave through his body from the tips of his toes up to his fingertips which still clutched at Yamamoto's flesh.

"_Shit_," he gasped, throwing his head back.

"I love making you lose it like this," whispered Yamamoto and Hayato couldn't see him but he could hear that cunning smirk that was spread out across his face. Yamamoto squeezed and tugged on his cock gently but with enough force to make him cry out.

"Come for me, Hayato."

Yamamoto licked up the shell of his ear again, using his tongue to pull his earlobe in between his teeth, kneading and sucking. A current ran up his spine and he knew he couldn't hold out any longer, white hot heat flushed his entire body as euphoria engulfed him.

"_Bastard_," Hayato gasped as he tensed and shuddered and he came, messing the t-shirt and Yamamoto's hand.

His chest heaved and his heart raced. Hayato rolled his head over on Yamamoto's shoulder, still cradled in his lap and watched with bated breath as a slow and mischievous smirk curled Yamamoto's lips and he lifted his hand to his mouth, using the flat of his tongue to lap up the slick pearly residue off of his wrist.

Hayato's eyes dragged from Yamamoto's tongue on his wrist to the smoldering black in his eyes and he cocked an eyebrow and his smirk spread wider, licking his lips. Hayato flipped over, quickly straddling Yamamoto's hips.

"_Tu_,_ futtuto affascinante idiota,_" Hayato growled in Yamamoto's ear as he shoved him down on the bed.

"Mm, what's that? It sounded really sexy, say it again," Yamamoto chimed with a laugh.

"Fuck you, pervert. I was _trying _to work, and now look at this mess all over my shirt!"

Yamamoto laughed as his hands flew up and tore Hayato's shirt over his head. "There, took care of that problem. Now, there's one more-"

Hayato smirked devilishly. "Oh no, you deserve to be punished for interrupting me, _Takeshi._"

Yamamoto arched a long brow inquisitively. "Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Hayato's smirk grew, smug and arrogant. "Hn, leaving you to work out your own problem sounds about right." He leaned in close and licked a hard stripe up Yamamoto's neck. "Thanks for getting me off, _Yamamocchan,_" he whispered flippantly in his ear.

Yamamoto let out a huff of breath and gripped Hayato's sharp hips tightly. "Do you actually think I'd let you go?"

Hayato ground down on Yamamoto's erection, feeling it's stiffness through the sweatpants. He could feel himself get hard with the motion, but he wasn't going to give in. He didn't want to have to shower _again,_ even if fucking Yamamoto hard and watching him flush and beg and whimper underneath him would be worth it. He had to get the files read, he didn't have time for distractions, even if he did feel like a bit of an asshole for leaving Yamamoto blue.

"You can hold me down all you want but... " Hayato trailed off as he noticed the spark go off behind Yamamoto's hazel irises. He knew Yamamoto well enough to know that the idea of holding him down and having his way with him would be an idea Yamamoto would be all too happy to make come to light. Instead, he would handle this distraction in the opposite way. He would turn Yamamoto into a hot and wanting mess, turning the tables and getting back at least a smidgen of control.

"Hm, never mind. I've got something else in mind," Hayato stated amusingly.

Yamamoto raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Is that so?"

Hayato had enough of the banter and began with tentatively meshing their lips together, running his hands through Yamamoto's hair. He gave in and pressed his fingertips hard into Hayato's hipbones.

Hayato smirked behind the kiss, slowly sweeping his tongue across the underside of Yamamoto's bottom lip, just enough to taste. He rocked his pelvis lazily and Yamamoto gasped. Hayato continued to kiss along Yamamoto's jaw and down his neck. He shifted so that he could run his tongue over Yamamoto's beveled torso, mapping out the lines of the hardened muscle and gently tweaking sensitive buds when his fingers ghosted over them.

Yamamoto's fingers found their way into his silver hair, tangling them in the strands when Hayato traced a finger dryly over his crease. He nipped at the flesh in the hollows of Yamamoto's groin and followed with his tongue. Yamamoto hissed and watched as Hayato took his index finger into his mouth, slicked it slow and slid it in, getting just a little resistance as his finger was sucked in. Yamamoto let out a mew, tightening his grip on Hayato's hair. Hayato stroked tentatively, preparing and stretching. He watched Yamamoto flush with colour and he smirked.

"Mm, so tight. Shall I try another?"

"Y-yes," Yamamoto breathed with a short nod.

Hayato looked up at him through the silver fringe that hung over his eyes and smirked. "Not yet."

Yamamoto looked down at him, quirking his mouth into a small pout. Hayato worked him a bit more, until Yamamoto was writhing and panting and looking very desperate.

Hayato removed his finger and peered up over the frames of his glasses. "That should be enough for now."

Yamamoto's jaw slacked in disappointment. "Wh-what?"

"I've got to work," he simply said with a shrug.

"But-"

"No buts."

"Hayato," Yamamoto whined, thrusting his flushed hardness in his general direction. "_Please_."

"Please what, Takeshi?" Hayato skirted his hand across his lap, watching as Yamamoto's cock twitched and his body tense with the gesture.

"Please, I want more," Yamamoto begged, biting on his lower lip.

Hayato loved when Yamamoto was like this. He knew that Yamamoto was quite capable of being dominant and overpowering and he knew that if Yamamoto wanted more, he'd make Hayato give it to him. However, Hayato also knew that this was truly Yamamoto; tanned skin flushed rose and eyes half lidded with lust, mouth parted with his teeth every so often biting down on his lips, a little bashful and needy. This Yamamoto that liked to be touched and manhandled roughly and heatedly like their first time in the motel.

"You want more?" hummed Hayato, tracing lines over Yamamoto's thighs and across his groin, curling his fingertip playfully in soft downy hair.

"Yes,_ please_. I want _more._"

Hayato's lips tugged at the corners of his mouth and he slowly spread the fleshy mounds, digging his fingertips into the flesh.

"Raise your hips," he demanded smoothly. Yamamoto complied. Hayato leaned in and licked a trail up his crease and listened to Yamamoto gasp in anticipation. Hayato sucks on his index finger again, inserting it into the twitching ringed muscle. He leaned forward and used his tongue to add a little more lubrication to allow for his second finger. He tries to be gentle but more so for the pace because slow and steady is killing Yamamoto right now. Hayato can tell by the way he's rolling his hips and holding on to his hair, trying to bury his whole face between his ass, that Yamamoto is exactly the wanton and needy mess Hayato wants him to be.

He spends a lot of time, slow probing and tentatively laving along his ass. Yamamoto is making noises, mewling and hissing and Hayato can't help but think its fucking adorable. And when he steals a glance up at the brawny, sun kissed man he's rewarded with a face contorted into one of pain or ecstasy. Maybe it's a little bit of both, but Hayato makes sure he isn't being rough. He's moving slow, gingerly. Maybe just a little too slow. But that's not without warrant, he definitely wants to make Yamamoto lose all sense.

Yamamoto let out something between a groan and a whimper as he dug his heels into the mattress, legs splayed out frivolously. Hayato scissored him, making room for his tongue to anxiously delve in. Yamamoto gasped above him and tugged at his hair. Hayato continued, trailing his tongue teasingly along his crease and just using the tip to gently penetrate. Yamamoto writhed and wriggled, silently begging for something more.

Hayato eased a third finger in, licking and biting around Yamamoto's groin, every inch but his dick, kneading his globes with his free hand. Yamamoto cried out and bucked his hips forward, desperate to sink his cock into something, anything that would get him the release he was seeking.

Hayato was determined to tease, letting Yamamoto's cock graze his cheek, chin and lips but never once fitting his mouth over it. He whined in frustration and Hayato pushed his hips down into the bed using his arm, keeping him stationery.

"Enough, 'Dera. _Please," _he begged and Hayato grinned.

"Heh, does it feel good?" he asked, crooking his fingers slightly and stroking over Yamamoto's prostate.

Takeshi squirmed, arching his back and gripping the bed sheets. "Ah! Y-yes!"

Hayato smoothed over his perineum with the pad of his thumb, rubbing in soft, circular motions. He dragged his fingers over the gland again eliciting a cry from Takeshi.

"I-I want you... I want to come with you inside me," Yamamoto whimpered.

"Come on, Takeshi... don't hold back," Hayato teased, and stroked over his sensitive spot once more. He repeated the motion, this time adding just a small amount of pressure and Yamamoto choked out his name on a desperate gasp. Hayato knew he the crash was coming so he finally took pity on him. He grabbed hold of Yamamoto's cock and leisurely milked him through his climax.

Satisfied, Hayato grinned victoriously at the mess of a man before him.

"Ha-Hayato..." Yamamoto wheezed.. "Th-that was... amazing."

Hayato climbed up the bed and laid down on Yamamoto's outstretched arm. "Mm, of course it was. It is me, after all."

Yamamoto laughed. "That is true, you are amazing. But it still would have been better if we could have done it. You feel good inside me."

Hayato snorted and rolled his eyes to try and hide the blush creeping over his face. It's gotten to the point where giving Yamamoto a reaction just makes him say more embarrassing things, so he just gives it up for ghost. Nothing he says will make Yamamoto stop.

He kissed him then; a long, sensual kiss because he could never get enough of Yamamoto's mouth, never get enough of this feeling.

"I love you," Yamamoto said when he pulled away.

Hayato was exhausted and he'll later blame this on being overtired, but this moment after everything that's happened between them, it couldn't have been a more fitting time. He smiled, just the slightest smile, something you'd barely notice on his usual scowling face and ran his hand lazily through Yamamoto's hair. "I love you too, baseball idiot."

Yamamoto grinned wide, pulling Hayato into him, not leaving even an inch of space between them and nuzzled Hayato's messy mass of silver hair. "Come back to bed with me."

"Che. I guess it can't be helped." Hayato rested his head on Yamamoto's chest, reveling in the fast and erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and didn't refuse.

* * *

Hayato chewed on his pen cap and studied each autopsy report, exhausted and it was only six a.m. He didn't sleep much but he woke up to Yamamoto in the shower and being the pervert that Yamamoto is, he had to put on a show to lure Hayato back into the shower so that they could finish off what they started earlier on. Yamamoto was insatiable and so was he, they just couldn't keep their hands off each other long enough for Hayato to actually get any work done. So after yelling for about ten minutes at how annoying he was, Yamamoto finally left him alone to busy himself around his tiny kitchen.

He pulled the pen away from his mouth to make room for his cigarette. The smoke curled around his head in lazy, grey tendrils. He looked over the photos of each crime scene, each body dumped had flesh removed, no head and the arms crossed over the chest. The only two that didn't were the man Hayato had shot and the informant found slumped against the wall, dead of an apparent overdose. The newest victim and the leader of the gang that attacked Yamamoto were also found in that manner and Hayato realized that each of the kills seemed to be getting sloppier.

The pattern was erratic. The first three victims were the most gruesome. They had been older members of the yakuza, with full scale body tattoos so the majority of their skin had been shaved off with the sharp edge of a blade. If Ryohei's informant had been right, Hayato would guess the weapon used had been a katana of some sort. Each victim had their fingertips and padding of their toes sliced up beyond recognition by any data base. The fourth victim was different. The killer had forgotten about the tattoo and there were hesitation marks around the neck area. He also fought back and had to be sedated, unlike the other three. His name was Ikeda Nosaru. Hayato set his file aside, along with the photographs of the crime took a drag of his cigarette and quickly jotted down his theory.

The next victim was Ryohei's informant, he died from a lethal dose of etorphine without the antidote. He died conveniently before they had a chance to retrieve any useful information out of him. He wasn't part of the _Hakai _but he was a drug dealer and an addict that occasionally worked for them.

The victim after the informant was the man who Hayato shot. His name was Sosouke Fuu. He worked for the yakuza as a body guard for the courtesan brothels. He was a rapist and liked to beat women. He had several accounts of rape and physical assault on females, never serving time for a single charge. Hayato was glad he was dead, scum like him didn't need to live. He was killed also with an injection of etorphine in through his IV. The killer had managed to evade the officers guarding his room _and _Hayato's room. That would mean he was watching them for a while to know the officers' routines. But knowing that the yakuza protected their courtesan, he was surprised to see this man had lived passed his first indictment.

Maybe the killer worked for the yakuza and was killing off the fuck ups. Ikeda Nosaru was killed and they had found a lot of packaged cocaine in his apartment. The informant was about to reveal the killer's identity before he was murdered. And then Sosouke Fuu was not only a man that desecrated the currency of Sakura Town but he shot and failed to kill Hayato, Namimori Middle District's loyal guard dog. Each of the men fucked up, each of them died.

Running with that theory, the next man to die was the man that had lead the gang that attacked Yamamoto. Out of all the kills, this is the one Hayato was the most satisfied with. He really didn't care what justice could served for this guy because he had already been dealt it.

But here is where it got sloppy. This man, Tanaka Daiki, was the easiest out of all victims that been dumped up to that point to have been identified. His head was still missing but the CSU was able to retrieve a fingerprint match from AFIS in no time. He had, however, been mutilated the worst. The crime scene photos actually churned Hayato's stomach, and that didn't happen to often. But it led him to believe that the fingertips were left in tact because the killer wanted his identity to be found. Perhaps that was the reason, or. maybe the serial killer had just become lazy.

His rap sheet was almost the size of the _Hakai's_ boss, Tomokazu Tosaru. This lead Hayato to believe that Tanaka was higher up in the gang, most likely a direct subordinate of Tomokazu's. He also fucked up, he beat up and left a reporter _alive_ and then failed to shoot Hayato dead, which in turn lead to a story that added more heat on the yakuza for the assault on Yamamoto and not having to be held responsible because of all the police and politicians they had in their pockets. This must have shamed Tomokazu, being called out by Haru and her newspaper. He couldn't touch her _or _Yamamoto, that would have been to obvious and since Tanaka _also_ failed to kill the biggest thorn in his boss's side, he had to set an example and have him killed.

The last victim was Suzuki Nagisa. He was older, also easy to identify and there had been no mutilation at all. His head was missing, arms crossed over his chest but all his skin and fingertips had been saved slicing and dicing.

He was the one Hayato couldn't figure out. His history with the police was extensive like the others, but he hadn't been criminally involved with anything in the last five years. Hayato tried to search the reports he had for the last criminal offense and pages of the report had been blacked out and missing. He made a note in his notebook to check it out at the station. He shouldn't have a file he wasn't able to access, everything that was processed in the Namimori Middle Police Department he had clearance to view.

It had to be the _Hakai Dīrā_, since the other yakuza gang had less influence and there hadn't been a war started, it wasn't them. The serial killer must be a hitman for the yakuza.

The theory seemed the most logical, but Hayato still felt Mukuro had to be involved somehow. Not only that but... the serial killer was flashy and drew a lot of attention, the attention of the media and a federal agent. Could he possibly working for the _Hakai_? Because this isn't the way they'd want to handle things.

Yamamoto walked across the room carrying two mugs of coffee and set his down on the square table, kissing Hayato's cheek in the process. Hayato went red in the face and was about to give him shit when he decided he just didn't have the time to argue.

Hayato was surprisingly happy with how normal this felt, how natural Yamamoto made everything seem. Aside from being slightly annoyed at his workload and anxious knowing what the day had ahead of him, he was was very content being here.

"How's it going?" Yamamoto asked, sitting beside him.

"I've got nothing," Hayato muttered disappointingly. "I just keep going in circles."

"You want to talk it out?"

Hayato looked over at Yamamoto and realized that as much as Ryohei was an asshole, he missed having a partner to bounce his ideas off of. "Tch... idiot, you know I can't do that."

"I know," Yamamoto said with a sigh. "Just figured it would help."

"It would have if you were my partner," Hayato said, gathering the crime scene photos to avoid Yamamoto accidentally looking at them. He didn't want to scare the guy, he remembers when Yamamoto told him crime scenes made him queasy.

"Haha, choose the wrong profession huh," Yamamoto said with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You couldn't handle what I do," Hayato said distractedly, looking over his notes again.

Each victim aside from the Ryohei's informant and the man that Hayato had shot and was killed in the hospital, had minute amounts of etorphine in their system, along with the antidote. The other two had only the etorphine, and since even the slightest bit without the antidote was fatal to humans, the amounts were barely traceable.

The killer was good at covering their tracks and as far as Hayato knew, no one was able to trace the batch of etorphine used to any veterinarian hospital.

It was a strange thought to have, given his profession, but he couldn't help think that the killer was murdering men that were criminals, people spoiling the Tenth's hard work to keep the city clean. He was almost glad that the killer was taking out all the bad seeds, even if what he was doing was morally wrong.

"You're right, I probably couldn't."

Even so, even if Hayato felt that the murders were justified, it didn't give this person the right to think he was above the law too. Killing was wrong, regardless. And this man was making a fool out of the Tenth and the department. He was making a fool out of _him_ because he couldn't find one single clue that would lead him to the serial murderer's identity. "It's better that way, you're too pure to be tainted with this ugly," Hayato said absentmindedly, still reading over his notes. He was noticing a pattern but he just needed a little more time to make it make sense.

There were arms around his waist suddenly and Yamamoto had kissed the back of his head. "You think I'm pure?"

Hayato looked over at him. "Hm?"

"You just said I was pure," he said dejectedly. Something about his face was off, he looked somber and upset.

"I did? Well... Yeah... I just meant that you're too good natured for this kind of stuff. Maybe you could have done it as a news reporter, I just think this kind of thing isn't for you. I didn't mean to offend you... if I did," Hayato said with his brow creased.

Yamamoto smiled, but it was off too. Sad, maybe. "No, you didn't offend me. I just don't see myself in the same light as you do, I guess. It's funny because I think that you're the one that's pure, you know? What you do with this city is amazing, you're amazing. You work hard at putting all these criminals behind bars and even though nothing sticks, you still do it. You don't give up. I really love that about you, Hayato." He pressed a long kiss to the side of Hayato's head.

Hayato was speechless, bright red in the face. His heart beat fast and hard.

"You're a good person, Hayato, with a big heart. Even though you try and hide it, I see it. And don't let anyone else tell you different."

Hayato couldn't take anymore, his heart felt too heavy and the swelling in his chest felt like it was about to explode. He's never had someone tell him these things before, not like this. And he didn't deserve it, because he wasn't a good person, not really.

He cleared his throat and moved away from Yamamoto. "Th-thanks," he muttered.

Yamamoto chuckled. "Sorry if I embarrassed you again. You'll come to see it eventually, what I see in you."

Hayato remained silent, staring at the files on the table. Silence filled the tiny space for an awkward moment.

"When do you want to head over to your place?" Yamamoto asked.

"Soon," Hayato mumbled. He closed the files with a frustrated sigh and decided that he'd look over them later. He took off his glasses and set them on the table.

"By the way... I didn't know you wear glasses too," Yamamoto said amusingly.

"Just to read," Hayato said, gathering the files. "Speaking of glasses, where are yours?"

This was the moment of truth. He had forgotten about the glasses up until now.

"My glasses?" Yamamoto asked, scratching his cheek. "I uh, actually don't know where they are. I put them somewhere and I can't find them, haha."

Hayato eyed him suspiciously. "What are you wearing to see now?"

"Oh. Contacts," he said with a shrug.

"Contacts?"

"Mm, yeah. I've always worn them... but when I first met you, I had lost them, haha. I didn't have time to get a new prescription so I just wore the glasses instead."

Hayato searched his eyes for any signs of dishonesty. From what he could tell, there wasn't any. "It took you that long to get a prescription?" he asked incredulously.

"Haha, no... you don't remember probably, but... that night... Our first night in the motel, you told me that my glasses turned you on."

Hayato felt his face get hot and his cheek twitch. "Hah... I said no such thing."

Yamamoto laughed. "You did! But you were pretty drunk, so you probably don't remember. That's why I always wore them after. For Gokudera," he said, nudging Hayato with his elbow.

Hayato felt the heat intensify. He'll never get used to this, he'll never get used to feeling so wanted. "And what about these?" Hayato asked, ignoring the comment and pulling the evidence bag out of his jacket. He knew Yamamoto had nothing to do with the murders in Sakura Town. Mukuro was trying to frame him, maybe, but he was definitely the one causing the suspicion.

Yamamoto took the evidence bag from him and studied the glasses inside. "Hey! These are my glasses from the night I was attacked!" he exclaimed.

Hayato nodded. He knew it. "I thought so. You weren't in Sakura Town the night before, were you? The night you happened to pass by the motel?"

Yamamoto scratched his head. "Nope, I went to a game that day because I had to write a story on it. Then I went home and wrote it... but I couldn't sleep afterwards because... well because I missed you a lot and I couldn't stop thinking about you so I went out for a jog. On my way back is when I saw you."

Hayato watched him for a minute, gauging his honesty.

"Why, what's all this about?" He paused, scratching his cheek. "Oh, is it about the murder that happened the other night?"

Hayato nodded.

"And you think I might have had something to do with it?" Yamamoto asked warily.

"No... _I _don't. Somehow your glasses made it onto the crime scene. This is confidential information, so if it gets leaked, I'll know it was you and I won't be impressed." He shouldn't have said anything but he just had to know if Yamamoto was telling the truth. He had to know if he could fully trust him.

Yamamoto frowned. "I wasn't there, Hayato. And I wouldn't say anything to anyone. It would only hurt you in the long run... You think maybe it was Mukuro?"

Hayato startled and looked at Yamamoto incredulously. "What makes you say that?"

Yamamoto stood and sighed. "It's obvious that he wants me out of the picture. He's been doing things to mess us up since he's known about you and me."

Hayato had never thought he'd put those things together, but Yamamoto wasn't an idiot entirely. "Like what?"

First rule of interrogation was that you never asked leading questions that would give the suspect an idea or an opening to lie about. Yamamoto wasn't on trial here, Hayato just wanted to know his thoughts.

"First he got you kicked off the case because we were seeing each other. Then he called Miura-san and told her I was the one leaking information to the public but that it was falsified information."

"You never told me that," Hayato said, standing and stretching.

"You already had so much on your plate, and then you had gotten shot. I didn't think it mattered that much," Yamamoto said with a shrug. "And then he took advantage of you to get at me." The last part he spat out venomously and it made Hayato wince.

Feeling a whole lot of guilt and and whole lot of love for this stupid man in front of him, Hayato dropped his guard and wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's neck. "It matters to me, idiot."

Yamamoto smiled and brushed Hayato's hair out of his face. "Well, whatever he's up to, we'll just have to be careful, ne? I won't let him touch you again."

Hayato sighed. "You can't do anything to him, he's a bureau agent and I think he's got ties to the yakuza. You've already gotten yourself hurt enough because of me."

He grinned at Hayato. "Is Gokudera worried about me?"

Yamamoto had been right about everything and he felt like he was lying to him by not telling him that he had a past, even if it was a sliver of a moment in time, he had a past with Mukuro and it was likely that he wanted to destroy Hayato's life, and that included Yamamoto. And that it was likely that he wanted Hayato for himself.

_"I am a man who gets what I want.."_

Hayato shuddered. He should tell Yamamoto but now wasn't the time. But then again, there was no right time to tell your lover that you were wanted by another man.

"Yamamoto... there's... there's something I have to tell you," Hayato said uncertainly. He moved out of Yamamoto's arms and sat on the wooden table.

"Okay?" Yamamoto sat back down on the bed and cocked his head in puzzlement.

"Look, this is going to sound fucked up and I apologize ahead of time that I didn't say anything because to be honest, I didn't think you and I... would go anywhere. I definitely didn't think we'd make it here. So just hear me out before you say anything. Or before you make a decision."

Yamamoto's brow deepened and Hayato saw the concern rich in his eyes. "Okay."

Hayato looked away from him then, decided to focus on a single tile of wood in the floor while he told his story.

"My father... is part of the Italian mafia. He's the Don of a rather influential family."

"The... the mafia? Seriously? Like the yakuza?"

"Che, idiot. The yakuza are a bunch of ruffians and thugs. The mafia are fucking dangerous and cunning, they make the yakuza look like pansies."

Yamamoto let out a very vacuous "Oh."

Hayato knew he obviously he didn't get it. That wasn't the point to his confession, so he didn't dwell on it. "He and I don't have a relationship because he ordered the hit that murdered my birth mother. That's a story for another day, though. You with me so far?"

Yamamoto looked at him with his eyes wide. "Hayato..."

Hayato continued. "I left home when I was eight and lived on the streets until I was thirteen. I was in a lot of gangs, I did a lot of fucked up shit for them. I... was shot and Shamal saved my life."

Yamamoto inched closer to him and reached out to touch him but drew his hand back when Hayato began talking again.

"My father has done a lot of bad shit, most of it I know nothing about. But... when I was younger, maybe about five years old... I met Rokudo Mukuro. Only he was a boy my age, and I'm not sure but I think he was a child slave. My father demanded that I not associate myself with the likes of a boy like him but I was always alone and I just wanted someone to play with. The bastard got pissed that I didn't listen and he threatened to beat me if I didn't leave him alone and go to my room." Hayato scoffed. "He did later anyways, but I..."

Yamamoto was watching him intently, his brow creased with worry and his lips drawn into a frown. Hayato hoped he understood what he was trying to say, he hoped that Yamamoto would understand the connection between himself and Mukuro and that whatever was going on right now was going to get a lot more complicated before it got better.

He sighed. "I tried standing up to my father, tried to save him from what or _who _was behind that door but my father insisted and when he slammed it in my face all I could hear was... " Hayato trailed off as he recalled the nightmare that now served as the only memory he had. He cringed and shuddered in remembrance of the stutter and the frightened look on the boy's face, the terrifying cries of the young Mukuro beyond that secret door as his father and the unknown person lashed him and beat him for his innocent defiance and did god only knows what else.

Without even realising it, Hayato's cheeks were wet and his eyes burned and he couldn't shake the loneliness and sorrow that he felt, couldn't shake the guilt. What was worse was that he sympathized with Mukuro because even though he was fucked up now, something Hayato knew all about what had happened to him in that room in _his _home. Something _his_ father did. The young Mukuro had to have been feeling far worse than Hayato could have ever felt at that time.

Yamamoto reached out then and this time his arms made their way around Hayato, pulling him in and holding him close.

"Baby, you're shaking... It's alright, you don't have to relive those moments, any of them. I understand enough and we'll work through all of it together. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Hayato disregarded that Yamamoto had called him _baby _again and quickly wiped the tears off his face with a sniffle. He felt embarrassed and childish to be crying over some stupid childhood memory that he no longer had any control over.

"I'm fine."

"I know."

"So you can let go of me now."

"Don't wanna," Yamamoto whined, burying his face in Hayato's hair.

"Che. Like a kid."

Yamamoto chuckled and held on tighter.

Hayato let out a sigh. "I suppose it can't be helped then, talking to you is like talking to a child. Do as you please."

Yamamoto kissed the top of his head and laughed again. "I intend to."

"Tch."

There was a long pause and after a few minutes of silence and just when Hayato had began to think that Yamamoto was seriously considering his options, Yamamoto broke the silence with a soft kiss to his head.

"Hayato, everyone has skeletons in their closet, everyone has secrets. Sometimes they make us feel guilty and ashamed and others we can't reveal because we're afraid to be judged. And sometimes... sometimes people need saving and others... others are beyond the point of salvation. You have such a beautiful heart but you can't save them all."

Hayato's cheeks grew warm. It still astounded him that Yamamoto wasn't just some dumb jock but that he was really smart too, he was so good at reading people, especially Hayato. "I... I know that. And I'm not saying I want to. I just... I just can't help but feel a little responsible."

Yamamoto sighed. "Sometimes traumatic events shape a person because they choose to dwell on the past. They just have to accept that it's okay to let go. But, people like Mukuro will never find happiness and peace because he's an angry and vengeful man. He'll never know what it's like to feel the way you make me feel, the way you saved me from my darkness."

_Darkness_? Hayato didn't do anything for Yamamoto, he wasn't good to him. He's lied and cheated and hurt him. Those weren't things you did to someone you cared about. And true, Mukuro will never know what it's like to be loved but Hayato felt like maybe he could have. That maybe if he had been there for him and maybe did something more, then he wouldn't have turned into the man he was now. He felt that the dream he had had been more of a what-could-have-been rather than just an empty nightmare. That somewhere inside he felt Mukuro's pain and understood why he was the way he was. After all, he and his sister had a lot of issues that normal people didn't have because of their pasts, and each one of them developed different problems and handled it in their own ways.

And he's always suspected it, but what he got from Yamamoto's speech was that Yamamoto had his problems too. From the outside, his life looked like the perfect life. He grew up with both his parents and his father was well established, owned a sushi restaurant and ran a dojo. He even volunteered at an animal shelter on his time off. Yamamoto himself was a star athlete as a child, a well known sports columnist now and he was always happy. No one but Hayato knew the dark streak in him but he didn't think Yamamoto needed saving from it. It didn't seem to affect him daily, it was only when he got upset with over something Hayato did. Which he guessed he understood to an extent, Yamamoto was an only child so he was probably used to getting spoiled and as he got older it probably his temper tantrums turned into anger he wasn't sure how to control.

When it came down to it, Yamamoto wasn't as messed up as the rest of them but Hayato couldn't ignore that even Yamamoto Tsuyoshi told him he had saved Yamamoto from a deep depression, so perhaps that was the darkness he was referring to.

Either way, Yamamoto didn't deserve to be treated the way Hayato has treated him, even if he said he made him happy. His life was a total mess and it was dangerous and he didn't want to hurt Yamamoto anymore. He didn't want to be the one that put him back into the darkness by dragging him along this fucked up ride where Yamamoto will have to deal with so much more bullshit. So much more bullshit than he's already had to deal with. It just wasn't fair and Hayato couldn't let himself do to Yamamoto what he feels like he's done to Mukuro. He couldn't have saved the little boy then, but maybe he could make up for it by saving Yamamoto from drowning in his world.

Hayato's stomach churned and his heart clenched. His lungs tightened with the sharp breath he inhaled but he had to do it. What was that saying again? If you love something, let it go?

"Yamamoto... Everything is fucked up, my life is fucked up and I... I can't ask you to be part of this mess anymore. I don't want-"

Yamamoto cupped Hayato's cheek and tilted his face so that Hayato was forced to look him in the eyes. "Whoa, whoa. I don't plan on running away. Everyone in your life from what I gather has deserted you somehow. I'm guessing the meeting with you uncle didn't go well either, he obviously found out about you and me. I won't be the person that does that to you, Hayato. You can't get rid of me that easy, haha."

Hayato's heart swelled and he couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips. No matter how hard he tried to reserve his emotions with Yamamoto, he always saw right through him. He always knew what to say at just the right time.

"Che. I know, I've tried."

"And failed miserably, right? Haha."

"Heh, you're such an idiot."

"But that's why you love me, isn't it?" asked Yamamoto, kissing Hayato's nose. Such a gesture was something he used to cringe away from and now he wanted things like this. Though still, such affection embarrassed him and made him uncomfortable, he was slowly coming around to enjoying all the little things that Yamamoto did to make him feel happy.

"Who said I loved you?" Hayato scoffed.

"You did. Last night. You know, you should really tell people those kinds of things when they're awake so they can say it back," Yamamoto said with a big grin.

Hayato's face flared red. "Wh-what? You heard that, you bastard?"

Yamamoto burst out laughing as Hayato pushed him away, cheeks and ears burning. It was time to get back to reality, despite how much Hayato just wanted to stay here with Yamamoto locked away from the rest of the world. Soon he'd have all the time in the world to enjoy this new found feeling, all he needed to do was catch a murderer.

"Let's get going, you dumb bastard. You're going to make me late."

* * *

Hayato made it home and surprisingly, the house was empty. Bianchi's luggage was still there so she hadn't left yet but he was glad to have the house to himself for a minute while he changed. Before leaving the house, he checked himself in the bathroom mirror and was disgusted by the purple and yellow bruises all over his neck. The ones left by Mukuro over the ones Yamamoto left were worse and Hayato couldn't to look at it. So he took out the first aid kit and fitted a rectangular piece of gauze over the marks.

He felt like his life was coming together, at part of it anyways. He had his job back, and his house was quiet meaning Shamal must have done his business and went home. Hopefully Bianchi wasn't too far behind him. It was great because everything seemed to be coming together with the exception of Mukuro but Hayato would figure out his angle and deal with him soon enough. Maybe it would work itself out once he was able to catch the serial killer. Mukuro wouldn't have much of an excuse to stick around after that.

And then he had Yamamoto. The giant oaf that was too happy for his own good who was just as fucked up as he was to a degree, but it was alright. They fit together perfectly and Hayato could never be certain that he'd know what was so special about him, except that it was just him. Because he made Hayato feel good, he made Hayato feel... happy.

He was glad he told Yamamoto a little bit of his life, he felt relieved that he chose to stay too. But he found that it irked him, the fact that he didn't know anything about Yamamoto's past. He's never talked about it, never talked about his mother or what life was like when he was younger. He wanted to know more about Yamamoto's mother because that was the one thing they had in common. Their mothers' passing was a sort of kinship between the two of them and Hayato felt it would bring them closer. He was curious to know what his mother was like, what living with both parents was like. Yamamoto's dad seemed to love him a lot, was very accepting of his son. Hayato could only imagine that his mother would be the same if she were still here.

They were childish thoughts to have in his opinion, but he felt like his mother and Yamamoto's mother would have gotten along well, if she were anything like Takeshi. From what he could remember, Hayato's mother was always kind and happy. She always had a smile on her face and Hayato was proud that his mother was could smile through all the sadness she must have been feeling whenever she visited him. He thought his mother was a very courageous and strong woman and he admired that about her.

He wished he could know more about Yamamoto's past because of what he had said earlier. About secrets and skeletons, he had to wonder if Yamamoto was talking about himself when he said it. It's not that it mattered because he was pretty sure whatever Yamamoto was hiding, if he was hiding anything, he would accept it. It didn't matter because Hayato's past and present were far worse in comparison, he was sure, and Yamamoto accepted all of it because he loved him. Hayato was pretty sure he'd do the same.

He shrugged it all off anyways because even though it bothered him a little, it didn't really matter. If Yamamoto wanted to talk about his mother and his past, he'd wait until he was ready, just like Yamamoto had done for him.

Leaving the house with something akin to a smile spread across his face, he got into Yamamoto's car and drove to the station. Yamamoto let him borrow the car to avoid Hayato being embarrassed that he was being dropped off by his _boyfriend. _He had cringed when Yamamoto said it and he knew he'd never get used to the title but at least he was trying. So he had dropped Yamamoto off at the Gazette before driving to his house. Yamamoto had made him park in a secluded spot because, being the pervert that he was, he of course wanted to make out before leaving.

_"Yamamoto... that's enough. I'm going to be late, you damned pervert!"_

_"Haha. It's so hard to stop kissing you."_

_"Che. I really hate you sometimes."_

_"Mm, but you love me too. Ma, I guess I can live with that. As long as I can keep it kissing you."_

_"If you don't get out of the car, I'm going to kick your ass."_

_"Haha! Okay, okay, I'm going! Ma, Gokudera can be so cruel sometimes."_

_"Tch, you're annoying." _

_"Don't lose your cool at work, baby."_

_"Che! I told you not to call me that, you idiot."_

_"Haha!"_

_"You laugh too damned much! Shut up you bastard and don't call me that again!"_

_"I do it because you turn the cutest shade of red when I say it. It's adorable, really. Haha."_

_"I swear, I'm going to kill you one of these days."_

_"Haha, and then what would you do? You couldn't live with out me."_

_"Call me baby again, and see how fast we test out that theory."_

_"Haha, I love you."_

_"Go die."_

_"Don't wait up for me, I have a game to cover tonight. I'll meet you at home."_

Home. It had a nice ring to it. Even though he had his own place, it's never really been a home. He's never had a place to call home, a place that made him feel warm and welcomed. And it didn't matter if it was his house or Yamamoto's shitty apartment or a different place entirely. Home was wherever Yamamoto was, because he was the one that made Hayato feel warm and welcomed and wanted.

He pulled into the parking lot, humming a tune his mother had once taught him on the piano. He expected to be dreading the moment he met up with Mukuro but he was so content that it was the last thing on his mind.

Tetsu wasn't at his desk today, it was his day off. It was another officer that Hayato wasn't too familiar with and he didn't say anything other than good morning.

He strut over to his desk and checked the time. He was late but he didn't care. He wasn't going to bend to Mukuro's will, no matter how persistent he could be. The Tenth was his boss and he'd always be Hayato's boss.

He locked his files away in his desk and took a glance over stupid Ryohei's desk. It was the unorganized mess it usually was but he wasn't there. Oh well, Hayato couldn't help that he was an ignorant asshole. If he refused to work with him then there wasn't anything he could do about that.

Hayato ran up the stairs to the second floor to pay Tsuna a visit. He had hoped he'd be in the office and that he'd get to talk to him about working with Mukuro before he had to actually see Mukuro. He was feeling a little nervous about that because he had to pass the conference room which was where Mukuro usually worked from. But as he walked by and peered into the large window, he saw that it was vacant. The only other place that he'd be was in Tsuna's office and Hayato hoped that it wasn't the case.

Tsuna's office door was closed and Hayato hesitated just a little before he knocked on the door.

There was a silence before he heard a quiet "Come in."

Hayato opened the door and to his surprise, the office was empty save the Tenth. He was on the phone with a hand through his hair and a distressed frown on his face.

He looked up at Hayato and smiled, motioning for him to have a seat.

"Yes... I understand," he said into the receiver. "Well, to be honest, it seems to be more trouble than what it's worth." There was a long pause and Tsuna nodded. "Yes, I understand that but-" Another pause.

"No, I'll have a talk with him. The case seems to be progressing as much as it can at the moment. But there's only so much we can do," Tsuna said tiredly. "Yes, I understand that." Another pause. "No, we don't need anymore agents. The ones Rokudo-san have provided are more than enough. An addition of more manpower won't do anything against the lack of evidence."

Hayato shifted in his seat, wondering if he should be present for this conversation. Tsuna waved a hand and motioned him to continue sitting, holding up a finger to indicate he wouldn't be much longer.

"I've already asked for an increase in the budget, there's equipment we could use-" He looked over at Hayato and shook his head in aggravation. "Yes... yes, I understand. Thank you. Good bye."

Tsuna hung up the phone and ruffled his hair frustratingly. "That was Mochida-san. He's got a problem with how much media attention this case is receiving and now the public is in an uproar." He let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"Che, why doesn't Mochida just hire the yakuza he has on his payroll to deal with it," Hayato said sourly. "He was giving you a hard time again, wasn't he?"

Tsuna smiled wanly. "Yeah, he's a bit of a bully. But he _is_ the mayor."

"He still doesn't have the right to use his authority to treat you like that," Hayato said through clenched teeth.

"I know, but you've got to choose your battles, right?"

Hayato sighed. "I suppose. Something I need to learn more about, huh?" he said with a laugh.

"Gokudera-kun... I've really missed you around here," Tsuna said with a bright smile.

"I've missed it here too. It's good to be back."

"How are you? How are... things?" Tsuna asked slowly, folding his hands at his chin.

"I'm doing... better, Tenth. I'm a bit tired, but I'm ready to get back into my work one hundred and ten percent!" Hayato exclaimed eagerly.

Tsuna chuckled. "I'm really glad to hear that, Gokudera-kun. I'm really looking forward to having you back on this case. Haha, not just this case but I'm really happy to have you back in general," he said sheepishly.

Hayato felt his cheeks get hot. "Th-thank you, Tenth."

"So what's up, what can I do for you?"

"Actually... I wanted to speak to you about Mukuro. He's around here somewhere, right? Probably lurking in some corner leering at me," Hayato snorted.

"Haha, he's like that, isn't he? But um, I haven't seen him yet today."

Hayato raised a silver brow. "Oh? He told me to be here for nine. I know I'm late but-"

"Ah, don't worry about that, Gokudera-kun. Mukuro has been a pain in my side since he's gotten here, stirring up all kinds of trouble. A day off from his antics is refreshing."

"Well, that's good then. I've got a lot of work to catch up on."

"You're such a hard worker. I really admire that about you, Gokudera-kun. Please be safe from now on. I... really couldn't take it if something happened to you."

Hayato felt a pang of guilt stab him in his chest. "I... I will, Tenth. I'm really sorry about everything that's transpired these past few weeks. I'm not making excuses, but I've had some issues I've had trouble dealing with and I think... No, I _know_ that they're not going to be a problem anymore. I'll be the proper detective you need to help you clean up this city!"

Tsuna smiled, his eyes were so kind. Hayato beamed at his boss. He'd forever be proud to work for a man like Sawada Tsunayoshi.

"I just want you to stop being reckless. You're my friend above anything else. Pride and all that chief of police stuff doesn't matter to me. I know you're smart, Gokudera, so don't do anymore stupid things, okay?"

"O-of course, Tenth. I won't shame you anymore."

Tsuna nodded and they both fell silent. Hayato considered asking Tsuna for the transfer but he needed to be stronger than that. He couldn't complain about the situation, he needed to man up and take control of the situation. Work hard and make Tsuna proud.

"How... how are things going otherwise? Things are fine... with you and the reporter? Yamamoto Takeshi, was it?" Tsuna seemed to be treading carefully here, Hayato assumed it was because though they were friends, they never discussed their personal lives at work.

Hayato wanted to assure Tsuna that everything in his life right now seemed to be straightened out and that nothing was going to hinder his job performance anymore. Even though it still made him uncomfortable and embarrassed to talk about his personal life, he was to ease Tsuna's mind.

"Things are good," Hayato said.

"I see he's no longer covering the factual news. He gave up that high profile case for you, that's an awfully considerate thing for him to do," Tsuna said with a smile. "He seems to be a very good man, Gokudera-kun."

Hayato snorted. "He's an idiot."

Tsuna gave him a weird look. "O-oh... I thought that you were still together. I'm sorry. Did he do something?"

Hayato felt his cheeks get warm again. Talking about his relationship with another man was still hard for him to do, even if it was Tsuna he was talking to.

"No," Hayato said, laughing uneasily. "Not like that. He's... he's a goof but... he's an alright guy."

Tsuna laughed softly. "I don't get you sometimes, Gokudera-kun."

"Sorry."

"No, no. It's fine! I'm glad you have someone that makes you happy."

"He... he does," Hayato admitted, face burning with heat. He cleared his throat. "About Mukuro... how much do you know about him? You seem to have known him for some time. Uh, if you don't mind me asking."

Tsuna nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Uh, not much really. He's a pretty reserved person. He used to be a prosecutor for the city before he moved into law enforcement."

"A... a lawyer?" He could see that. It was surprising to say the least but Mukuro seemed to fit the part. "How did he get into the bureau?"

"Uh... I'm not really sure," Tsuna said, scratching his head. "I've heard rumors that he knew the director and that he threatened his way in." He laughed nervously. "I could believe it, but I don't know how much truth there is to it. He began working there when my father was still chief of police."

Hayato nodded. "Thanks, Tenth."

Tsuna looked at him quizzically. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, of course. I just wanted to know a little more about that pineapple snake's background," muttered Hayato.

Tsuna frowned. "I'm sorry that you've got to work with him. I'm not sure what happened with Sasagawa-san, but I. hope you two can work out your differences. You guys made an amazing team."

"Thank you, Tenth... It's quite alright, it's my job and I'm prepared to do it properly, even if I have to work with that bastard."

Tsuna laughed. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, Gokudera-kun."

"I suppose I should go read over the files then," Hayato said, getting up from his chair. Tsuna looked up at him and smiled. "Good day, Tenth."

"Take care of yourself, Gokudera-kun. It's good to have you back. One of these days we should hang out and catch up on old times... and new ones." He laughed.

Hayato smiled. The day seemed to be getting better by the hour. "I'd like that very much, Tenth."

"Great! Maybe we'll go to the Oshōgatsu festival together. You can bring Yamamoto-san too!" Tsuna said excitedly.

Hayato much liked the sound of that. Being with the people he cared about most bringing in the New Year seemed fitting. It was just the kind of normalcy he needed.

"That sounds wonderful, Tenth. I look forward to it."

Tsuna's smile widened. "Well then, it's settled. Hopefully we can clear this case up by then and we can rest easy. Wouldn't want to bring such negativity into the New Year."

Hayato waved a dismissive hand. "I'll have the case wrapped up and the muderer caught in time for us to enjoy the festival without a worry! You'll see."

Tsuna laughed. "I hope so. I'm counting on you, Gokudera-kun."

Hayato turned with his hand on the door knob and smiled wide for his boss. "I won't let you down, Tenth!"

He walked out of Tsuna's office in high spirits feeling confident and back to his normal self. He hasn't felt this good in a long time. Things were finally looking up.

He turned the corner to head down the stairs back to the pen when he crashed into a hard body.

"Oi! Watch- Lawn Head!"

Ryohei's eyes widened. "Octopus Head..."

"Uh... sorry about that," Hayato muttered, stepping aside and heading down the stairs.

"Hey, wait up."

Hayato turned around and Ryohei stared at him for a minute. He had a small rectangular bandage over his nose and the brusing caused by Hayato breaking his nose was now a yellowish-brown colour.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean what I said," Ryohei said.

"It's fine," Hayato said hastily. He didn't need this forced apology.

"No really... I don't care what you're into, dude. I was just havin' a bad day and apparently you were too. What you do with your own time behind closed doors is your extreme business. You're my partner and honestly, working with Hibari is killing me. He's totally rude to the extreme."

Hayato scoffed arrogantly. "Hn? I thought Hibari thinks you're _awesome to the extreme_."

Ryohei smirked. "He does," he said, crossing his arms and turning his nose up in the air. "But he's extremely difficult to deal with."

"Che. You're the troublesome one, asshole. Besides, I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me."

Ryohei blinked dramatically. "I never said that."

"Tch... that pineapple freak told me you wanted to be transferred."

"Eh? He told me the same thing."

"Hah? What the hell."

"Yeah, he said that you were still pissed over what I said and that you don't wanna be my partner anymore. Pissed me off to the extreme but I thought whatever, it was my fault. Shoulda never said what I said."

Hayato's eyebrow twitched. "That fuckin' snake. Listen, I don't give a fuck if you like me or not but there's something going on with that guy and we should get to the bottom of it."

Ryohei wrinkled his nose, the white bandage creasing along with it. "I _don't_ like you, but I'd rather work with an octopus head than a porcupine."

Hayato smirked. "Well, good. I don't like you either, so I guess that makes us even. And... I'm sorry about your face."

Ryohei touched his nose. "What, this is nothing. I am a man! I-"

"No... I'm sorry about your _face_. It's ugly."

Ryohei choked out a laugh. "Haha, what an extremely lame joke."

Hayato turned his nose up in the air. "Like you could do better."

"Hey, Octopus Head... "

"What?"

Ryohei narrowed his steel gray eyes. "I think that Mukuro is up to something too. I've had an extreme hunch since he got here. And he must really have it out for you because he seems to want to fuck your shit up to the extreme."

Hayato ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah... I know. And he's tried keeping me away from the Tenth and he's split us up. He's definitely got a hidden agenda, I just haven't figured it out yet."

Ryohei nodded sharply. "I think he's working with the yakuza."

"So do I. But... here's not the place to talk about it." He trusted Ryohei enough to share the information he gathered from the Tenth and Irie Shōichi. But they couldn't discuss this kind of thing at the station.

Ryohei's brow knit and he curled a hand around his chin and nodded. "I actually have to go see a friend of mine in Sakura Town. She's a club owner and she called me yesterday and told me she had some information for me."

Hayato raised a skeptical brow. "_Another _informant, Lawn Head? The last one ended up dead."  
Ryohei frowned. "I know... somehow that information got out but Kaori is not a junkie. She's a good source to the extreme."

Hayato thought about it. Hopefully they could gain some valuable information. They'd have to go into Sakura Town at night but with Ryohei, he probably wouldn't get shot at. For some reason, Ryohei was a lot more tolerated there than he was.

_"Don't wait up for me, I have a game to cover tonight. I'll meet you at home."_

Yamamoto was going to be busy so that cleared bus schedule. Besides, it was for work and he wanted to make that a priority. Now that he and Yamamoto were good, it was time to sort the rest of his life. Make everything work out for better.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do that."

"Don't come looking like a cop, either," Ryohei warned.

Hayato rolled his eyes. "One, I _never _look like a cop and two, it wouldn't matter anyways. Everyone already knows who I am."

"True, true," Ryohei said with a nod. "Well... wear a hat."

Hayato screwed up his face. "Pfft. Are you fucking retarded? As if. That's gonna look even more conspicuous, moron."

Ryohei scowled. "I resent that to the extreme, asshole."

Hayato rolled his eyes. "Don't you have some work you should be doing, ingrate?"

"Ugh. I can't think of an extreme comeback!"

Hayato clapped Ryohei on the shoulder. "It's fine. It looks like thinking hurts for you, so save yourself the trouble."

"You're an asshole," Ryohei muttered.

"Better than a porcupine," Hayato laughed. "I'm should tell him you said that."

"Haha... what are you, five?"

"Nope, just bored. I'd like to see you get a tonfa or two to the face."

"Wow... nice, dude. Real nice." Ryohei sighed.

"What? Don't tell me I hurt your feelings," Hayato said with a sardonic laugh.

"Nah, I was just thinking I actually missed this to the extreme."

Hayato screwed up his face again. "Che. Don't get all fucking sappy on me, Lawn Head."

"I'm... I'm not. These are manly feelings!"

"Pfft. You're a moron. Really."

"So we're good for tonight?"

"Yeah. I'll meet you there around ten. We'll have a few drinks before meeting with your contact. Can you arrange the meeting for around midnight?"

Ryohei nodded. "Yeah, that should be fine."

"Good. I've got some shit to look over. Why don't you fill me in on what you know about the case? If you're not busy... which since you're so leisurely lounging around, I'm sure you're not."

Ryohei looked around. "Well... I was actually extremely busy but... come on, let's go before Hibari finds me."

* * *

Hayato took out his phone as it chimed with a message notification.

_How's it going? _the message from Yamamoto read.

Hayato took a drag of his cigarette. "_It's going well," _he typed back.

He was sitting on the rooftop, having a smoke and watching the sunset. The peace and serenity of this moment for some reason seemed to pull a dreading feeling from the pit of his stomach. It was as if this was the calm before the storm, that maybe this was a moment to enjoy before chaos broke out. He wasn't sure why he felt this way but he couldn't shake it.

_That's great! I miss you._

"Che. How annoying," Hayato muttered with the cigarette in his mouth. But it still made him smile all the same.

_"Go back to work," _Hayato typed.

_Okay, I'm going. Love you, baby._

Hayato screwed up his face. "Ugh."

_"Go die," _he typed back. He pictured Yamamoto sitting there, laughing like an idiot.

He went to slip his phone back into his pocket when it rang. He answered it without looking at the caller ID, already knowing who it was.

"What do you want, idiot?" he asked, no harshness to his tone at all.

_"Uh... Gokudera-san?"_

"Irie Shōichi! I uh, apologize for that," Hayato laughed, embarrassed. Stupid Yamamoto.

_"Ha, t-that's alright... I've got some more information for you on the subject we discussed, if you're interested."_

_"Oh yes, I'm very interested. When do you have time?" Hayato flicked his cigarette butt __over the ledge._

_"I'm available anytime, Gokudera-san."_

"Great, I'll see you in an hour." It was a long drive from the station to Irie's flat and Hayato wasn't sure if he could remember how to get there.

"Oh, Irie... "

_"Yes?"_

Something had been eating at him since this morning, when he was able to get time on his own and when he wasn't thinking about Mukuro or the case. These thoughts always came back to him and wouldn't leave him alone.

Hayato didn't understand it at all, but he was a cop who relied on his instincts and logic. And something was telling him something wasn't right. Whenever he went over this morning in his head, something just seemed off. The feeling was there, underlying all the other emotion and Hayato hadn't noticed it because he was distracted.

"I'd like to ask you for some information. I'll pay the price... but it might be a bit of an immoral request for you."

_"Gokudera-san, I am an information broker. What I do in itself is immoral. Name the request."_

Hayato drew in a breath. He wasn't sure if he should go ahead with it or if he should just ask for honesty. But would he get it? It's been all this time and Hayato still doesn't know anything. He just needed to make sense if the nagging feeling tugging at the back of his mind. The one telling him that something wasn't right and that he should check it out, just to be on the safe time. He was a cop. Hunches didn't go away without proper deduction.

And because naturally, Hayato was a curious man.

"I... I need an extensive background search on Yamamoto Takeshi."


	22. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XXII

**Author's Note :**

I really hate this chapter. It has given me a lot of grief. I want to thank my beautiful waifu, Red, for helping to collaborate on this chapter. She's brilliant, even if she doesn't think so. [I love your ramblings, you know, so don't ever stop them xo]

With that said, I'd like to thank everyone who is reading and will read this excruciatingly long fic. Thank you everyone who's taken the time to review, your words are truly inspiring and often keep me going when I'm ready to give up.

Nico and Adara, you guys have been awesome. I love your reviews! Otakugurl, I remember you! I'm glad you've come to stalk me on FF from Wattpad. Where have you been? I miss your stalkerness! Your reviews on every chapter are amazing too!

And to all my other readers who favorite and follow the story, you guys are AWESOME. Leave a review next time and tell me what you really think!

Okay, enough blabbering. On to the next chapter!

* * *

_**Chapter XXII**_

* * *

By the time Hayato had gotten half way to Irie's house, Ryohei had called and told him they needed to get to the club sooner because his informant couldn't make a later meeting. With an aggravated sigh, Hayato had turned the car around and headed for Sakura Town.

They had talked about the case and Hayato didn't learn anything new other than everyone else in the precinct and crime lab were exhausted and frustrated that there were no new leads. The case was on the fast track to becoming cold, even though the killer was still hot on the streets.

Hayato gave Ryohei all the information he had on Mukuro except for one detail. No one here knee about his life and

Irie had been reluctant to oblige with Hayato's request but he agreed. He already felt guilty for doing this behind Yamamoto's back but asking Irie to look into a friend's past without his knowledge was pretty low of him too. It didn't make him feel good at all and this was one more thing Hayato could add to the list of things he did to Yamamoto that he didn't deserve.

But if Hayato was going to be one hundred percent certain he was clean, even though he trusted him, he needed to do his own research. Except when Hayato searched for him in the police databases he couldn't find anything. That wasn't abnormal, Yamamoto was a good man. Hayato didn't really expect him to have a record. But when he tried searching for his mother, he came up with a bunch of error messages and redirection notices. Hayato had never run into a problem like that but he couldn't very well ask anyone about it because he didn't want anyone to know he suspected Yamamoto.

He didn't actually suspect Yamamoto, well, not really. The more he thought about it, the more his calculated mind tried to make connections between events and pieces of knowledge resulting in logical theories. He didn't like it because he _did _trust Yamamoto but his brain was trying to override his heart, which wouldn't have been a problem a month ago. Now he was always in a state of confliction when it came to Yamamoto.

Moreover he believed that Mukuro was behind setting him up. At least implicating that Yamamoto had something to do with the murders. With Yamamoto out of the way, Mukuro was free to do whatever he wanted with Hayato... at least that's what he thought Mukuro's motive was.

Hayato sighed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how he became involved in something so. complicated and how everything in his life at the moment seemed to all tie into one another, there was no escape from the drama, no. escape from stress.

Truthfully, he was relieved to be meeting Ryohei at the club for an interrogation this evening. He could have a few drinks which would help ease his stress and being around Ryohei was easy. He wasn't a man interested in Hayato, he wasn't a criminal or had ulterior motives. He was nothing but an extreme jock that lived in his head and was really stupid. But everything with that turf top was normal and comfortable, it was a piece of his old life and his old self he still had a hold on, the only thing that didn't seem to be spiraling out of control at the moment.

Hayato met Ryohei at the mouth of Sakura Town and they walked in together.

"Looks like it's gonna rain to the extreme."

Hayato looked up at the sky. The clouds were fat and swollen, a somber and miserable gray. It definitely looked like a storm was coming.

"Mhm."

They walked in silence for a while and Hayato wondered if things were going to go as smoothly as Ryohei claimed they'd go.

"So this informant, she's a reliable source?" asked Hayato, sparking a cigarette.

"Yeah. More reliable than the other guy. She's extremely influential around here," Ryohei said, kicking a stone off the cracked sidewalk. "She's the daughter of one of Tomokazu's subordinates."

Hayato stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Ryohei. "Lawn Head... Are you fucking with me? Because I'm not in the mood."

"No, I'm not. I've known her for a long time. She's extremely cool."

"I don't care if she's _extremely cool,_ she's the offspring of the yakuza, you fucking dumbass. We're supposed to be here for information, not to sign our death certificates." Hayato began walking again, picking up his pace.

Ryohei jogged up to him and kept the fast paced walk alongside Hayato. "Like you should talk. You've already come close to something like that when you got shot."

"Yeah, I know," Hayato snapped. "But what is the daughter of the yakuza doing talking to cops? She's going to get her tongue cut out."

Ryohei scoffed. "Who, Kaori? She's a boss to the extreme. No one messes with her. I don't know what she tells them, but no one touches her."

"Idiot... have you given it a thought that this might be a trap?"

Ryohei's brow creased in confusion. "Huh? Why'd you think that?"

"Ugh. You moron, she's _yakuza_. In case that's not self explanatory enough for your dumb witted brain, let me break it down for you. _She_ called _you,_ right? _She _set up the meeting, _she _set up the place and time. Not to mention, the yakuza don't go around offering information without a price."

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you just insulted my intelligence -"

"Like it's an unusual occurance?" Hayato scoffed.

"Tch. Just listen, Octopus Head. I've known her for a long time and this isn't the first time I've gotten extremely useful information out if her. She's good."

Hayato sighed and looked over at Ryohei. He had to laugh at the fact that they looked like two sore thumbs sticking out, both with their light coloured hair and eyes. Especially Hayato. He could feel eyes on him since he walked into Sakura Town, he had to wonder ic today was the day the yakuza would finish the job and kill the tenth Namimori Middle District Police Commissioner's loyal watchdog.

"You think she'll stay alive and well after she gets seen talking to me?" Hayato asked with a snort.

Ryohei shrugged. "I don't know what's up with that. You shouldn't be alive after the stunt you pulled that night. I heard you barged right into a house and started shooting off your gun like a psychopath to the extreme," Ryohei said with a laugh.

Hayato sulked. "Yeah, so what? Bet you they'll think twice about messing with me now. They think I'm nuts," he said with a smirk.

"They think you're nuts, sure. But I don't think that's a good thing. They think you're an idiot to the extreme," Ryohei barked out, laughing. "You're like the laughing stalk in Sakura Town."

"Che. Fuck you, Lawn Head. This better be worth it because I don't want to have to come back here to investigate her murder or more importantly, I'd like to get out of here alive."

Ryohei waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. Kaori says she's got some good information txo the extreme and I believe it."

Hayato remained silent and took a drag of his cigarette.

"So what's the deal with your neck? It can't be 'cause you cut yourself shaving, right? You're not man enough to have anything but peach fuzz on that face," Ryohei said with a snort.

"Oi, I swear I'm going to fucking shoot you dead in the middle of the street."

"Well what happened? Looks extremely bad." Ryohei poked at the bandage covering the bruises on Hayato's neck.

"Che. Don't touch me, asshole," Hayato snarled, moving out of his reach and dragging on his smoke. "It's none of your business."

Ryohei was silent, studying him and then his eyes went wide. "Oh! Could it be another kiss mark? Whoa, it's gotta be extreme -"

Hayato reached over and smacked the back of Ryohei's head. "You fucking turf top, I said to fucking shut it! Now I know why you can't work with anyone else. You're too goddamned annoying!" Hayato could feel his face burning and the veins popping out of his neck.

"Hey, Octopus Head! Put your dukes up and take me on like a man! We'll settle this score to the extreme!" Ryohei shouted enthusiastically.

Hayato fisted Ryohei's shirt. "Oh? You sure you wanna go head to head with me?"

"Yeah, let's go!" Ryohei clocked Hayato in the side of his head.

Hayato smacked him back with his free hand, causing the cigarette to fall to the ground. They shoved each other with comical violence and threw punches that each one of them easily dodged. After about five minutes of them punching air and growling and grunting and swearing at each other, both men gave it up for ghost and realized they had drawn the attention of some of the thugs and drunkards that were wandering the streets.

Both of them straightened out and cleared their throats, Hayato lighting a smoke and Ryohei jabbing the air like an idiot.

"Whoa, Octopus Head! I'm fired up to the extreme!"

"Shut up," muttered Hayato. "You're not fooling anyone. You look retarded."

Ryohei continued to walk and jab and Hayato could hear snickers and swears coming from the onlookers.

"Stop that!" he hissed.

Ryohei stopped abruptly and paid no heed to the crowd. "Oh look, we're here."

They arrived at a large building where the music pounded the walls, seeping through the paper thin material. The club was called Black Lotus, fitting for an establishment located in the heart of Sakura Town.

Ryohei walked over to the heavily muscled bouncer standing at the door. He greeted him like they were old friends and it was so lighting quick that Hayato would have missed it had he blinked. Ryohei flicked his wrist and Hayato saw a flash of brown bills fitted between his fingers. He clapped hands with the bouncer and shook it. With a nod, the bouncer removed the rope across the entrance to the club and Ryohei motioned for Hayato to follow him.

Instantly he could feel the hot glare of the bouncer bore holes into his back. The turf head was welcomed with such familiarity and Hayato got the cold shoulder. No, he got the I'd-Love-To-Collect-The-Price-On-Your-Head treatment.

"**We'll call it a draw!**" Ryohei yelled as they walked into the club.

Hayato was instantly deafened by the heavy drum and bass that slammed his ear canals.

"**Only because you know you can't win, pussy!**" Hayato called back. "**How the hell are we supposed to talk to anyone like this?!**"

"**Relax, man! Let's grab a drink first and wait for one of Kaori's goons to come get us!**"

Hayato followed Ryohei through the crowd of women and he could feel lingering hands on almost every inch of his body. They winked at him and blew kisses and one of them even grabbed his ass. He jumped and nearly grabbed on to Ryohei. He didn't thankfully, he would have been so fucking embarrassed.

Men and women grinded against each other, practically dry humping on the dance floor. Others wove around glow sticks and bopped to the music. He could see yakuza thugs all over the place, hiding in corners or sitting at the VIP tables on an elevated stage.

They got to the bar and Ryohei ordered them beers while Hayato was cornered by a tall and slender woman with long, red hair. He had to do a double take because he thought for a second that it was his sister but when he met her eyes they were brown instead of green.

"**Hey!**" she said with a pouty smile.

Hayato nodded in acknowledgement.

"**I've never seen you here before!**" she shouted. "**You're really hot!**"

Hayato rolled his eyes.

"**Want to buy me a drink?!**" The woman tugged at Hayato's shirt and then moved her hand underneath it.

He glared, about to tell her off for invading his personal space when Ryohei fit himself between the both of them.

"**Hey! This guy right here... he's taken! His chick is in the bathroom, so you need to back off to the extreme!**"

The woman scowled and turned to the guy behind her and tried the same tactic. This time she got lucky.

Hayato and Ryohei moved further down the bar, beers in hand.

"**I didn't need your help, asshole!**"

"**You didn't want her, trust me. She makes it around this club!**"

Hayato wasn't bothered by it, he could handle women, especially ones that easy. He was used to drunk women throwing themselves at him, had been used to it since he was thirteen.

"**Besides, I'm sure your ****reporter**** boyfriend or whatever wouldn't like you extremely hitting up on some chick at a club, man!**"

"**He's not my **_**boyfriend,**_** fuck face! Will you shut the fuck up about my personal life already?!**"Hayato took a long gulp of his beer. **"You're the last person I'd talk to about that shit!**"

Ryohei leaned against the bar and took a swig of his beer, scanning the crowd and nodding his head to the music. "**That's good man! It'd be a weird fucking conversation to have to the extreme!**"

"Che," Hayato muttered. He felt ridiculous being here in this club full of ravers and candy kids that were too fucking high to know their own names and everyone here was someone they loved. He missed the quietness of Yamamoto's apartment and actually found himself missing the idiot himself. Just a little.

_It can't be helped,_ he told himself. He had been with him almost every day since they met. Hayato had become dependant on his company, feeling like a piece of him was missing when he wasn't around. As stupid and cliché as that sounded.

"**Hey, you're not gonna get drunk and like... hit on me right?!**"

Hayato smacked the back of Ryohei's head so hard that he jumped and spilled beer all over himself.

"**Idiots shouldn't speak! Like hell I would!**" Hayato shouted angrily. Couldn't people just leave him in fucking peace?

Just as Ryohei was about to come back with a retort, two large men approached them and motioned for them to follow them through the club. Hayato and Ryohei left the bar, Ryohei leading.

On the way, Hayato and Ryohei were groped more but neither of them paid any heed to it. They were too focused on following the men in front of them up a flight of stairs that looked like they were made out of industrial rebar. They got to the balcony and followed the men to an office framed in tall glass windows curtained in dark heavy fabric.

The men stopped before the door.

"Turn around," one of them said in a gruff voice.

Hayato knew the drill, this was the part where they got pat down. Because Ryohei had paid off the bouncer they surpassed security. Both of them wore guns, of course, so they were confiscated. Neither of them carried their badges so Hayato wasn't sure the men knew they were cops but if they did, they didn't treat them with any disrespect. Hayato had been a little apprehensive at first but the men seemed like professional body guards and he held a sliver of respect towards them for that.

The men ushered them through the door and Ryohei went in first, Hayato followed. Then the two men shut the door, remaining outside.

Hayato took a look around the room, seeing the curtains that covered the windows were a rich royal purple. The light in here was dim, the only glow coming from two lamps in either corner of the room and a desk lamp.

The office had white and chrome accents, with lots of glitter and sparkle. It was glamorous and very modernized. It reminded Hayato of a movie star's dressing room. Something maybe Marilyn Monroe would appreciate.

There were two oversized white leather chairs in front of a chrome and glass desk where a woman sat in a white throne like chair, elegantly and regal.

She had an elbow perched on the arm of the chair with her fist curled under her chin. Hayato wasn't attracted to women, at least none that he had ever come across but this woman was the definition of beautiful. Hayato stepped forward to get a better look. Her features were illuminated by the lamplight.

She had short hair that looked plum-black and pale skin, her eyes were almond shaped, seductive and smoldering honey brown. Her aura reminded Hayato of Bianchi, confident and independent but dangerous. She appeared to be a woman who knew how to use what she had to get what she wanted.

"Ah, good evening, Sasagawa-san." Her lips moved gracefully with the hint of a smile. Her voice was smooth and sure.

"Kaori, it's good to see you again to the extreme." Ryohei moved forward to take a seat in the large white chair opposite of her desk.

One of the bodyguards stepped forward and attempted to grab Ryohei's arm. "You fool! Wait to be told to be seated! And you will address Junko-sama as Junko-sama! Don't call her with such familiarity!"

Kaori shot the bodyguard a glare. "Tch. Don't be so noisy. He may address me as Kaori and he may sit whenever he likes. _Wherever _he likes." She turned to Ryohei and smiled. "Who's your friend, Sasagawa-san?"

"Oh! This is my partner, Gokudera Hayato," Ryohei said, gesturing behind him in Hayato's direction.

Hayato took a short bow. "Good evening, Junko-san."

Kaori smirked. "Hn, so formal. Come in, sit down. I'm Junko Kaorihime, but you may call me Kaori. Only my subordinates call me by my family name."

Hayato moved into the room and sat down. He couldn't hear any noise from the club, the room had to be soundproof. Gunshots could go off in this room and no one below would be the wiser.

"Gokudera Hayato, hm? The infamous bakufu dog?"

Hayato grit his teeth. "You can refer to me as Gokudera."

Kaori laughed. "My oh my, don't get so offended, Gokudera-san. I know plenty about you. You've made quite a ruckus here in Sakura. But, that's neither here nor there. You've come for some information, correct?"

"Yeah, you called and told me you had something that might be of extreme interest," Ryohei said.

Kaori leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Even her mannerisms reminded Hayato of Bianchi.

"I did. There seems to be a bigger pest making a mess here in Sakura Town. My father and Tomakazu seem bewitched by this vermin and I can see right through him. I want to hand him over to you guys and get him out of my town."

"Owh! Could it be the the Headless Samurai you're going to tell us about? I'm pumped to the extreme!" Ryohei asked excitedly.

"Che. Shut your mouth, Lawn Head. You're too damned noisy," Hayato hissed.

Kaori reached into a drawer and pulled out a flat silver case. She opened it and pulled out a long filtered cigarette. One of the bodyguards lit it for her. She inhaled and smirked. "Perhaps. First we must discuss payment, Sasagawa-san."

Hayato glanced over at Ryohei and watched him knit his brow in concentration.

"How much?"

Kaori dragged on her cigarette and blew it out elegantly. Hayato has never seen a cigarette be smoked with such class. He wondered how this woman was the daughter of a yakuza, he expected her to be a lot more harsh and not at all this feminine.

"Eighty thousand yen," she said smoothly.

Ryohei choked on a gasp. "Eh-eigh... Eighty thousand? Kaori... that's... that's extremely too much!"

"Hn... I know it's more than the usual, Sasagawa-san, but the information is crucial to your case, I'm sure. Unless... You'd like to pay with the other method. But, seeing as how you're pressed for time, I didn't think you'd want that."

Hayato looked over at Ryohei in confusion and saw his face turn red.

"K-Kaori, haha... Let's... let's keep that quiet to the extreme."

The other method? Judging by the shade of red Ryohei's face was and his reaction, the other method she was talking about was -

"Well, if you don't want to, I'll take Gokudera-san. He looks like he'd be good at what he does," Kaori said with a wink in Hayato's direction.

Hayato startled and felt his face get warm.

Ryohei waved his hands dramatically. "No, no. This asshole isn't good at anything," he said, laughing nervously. "I'll pay the eighty thousand. You're right, we're pressed for time to the extreme so-" Ryohei reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope.

The bodyguard to her left intercepted and took the envelope. He opened it up and counted the bills.

"There's only forty thousand yen in here, ya fool!" he said boisterously.

"I don't have the rest right now, I'll wire you the other half when we leave. Your men over here can come with," Ryohei muttered, staring at the ground.

Hayato was still trying to recover from Kaori's blunt proposition. Of all the things Ryohei had hidden, this one was by far the most interesting. He was banging his informant, the daughter of a _yakuza _at that. So much shit could go wrong if this secret got out. Not only would the information they found out here not be credible at all because of a conflict of interest, but if her father or any other members found out Kaori was seeing a cop and that she leaked information to them about the yakuza's affairs, she'd likely end up dead along with Ryohei.

Her subordinates must be really loyal, judging by the open way she spoke, she felt comfortable enough to talk so freely in front of these men. She looked like a woman that would shoot any man dead in cold blood if they betrayed her.

Hayato sighed. "With all do respect, Junko-san, I've got somewhere to be so can we hurry this along? You can talk to the lawn head later about all this. I'm unavailable for whatever method of payment you speak of," Hayato said curtly.

Kaori looked over at Hayato and. smirked as the bodyguard places the envelope on Kaori's desk. in front of her. "Of course you are, Gokudera-san. You're off limits to any of us anyways, I was just teasing," she said with a soft laugh.

Off limits?

"This is fine, Sasagawa-san. I trust that you'll arrange for the other half of the payment following this meeting."

"Right... I'll... I'll get it done," Ryohei mumbled, his face still red.

Kaori snubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray.

"You men can draw your own conclusions, but the man I have to tell you about is Rokudo Mukuro. The bureau agent. I'm sure you're familiar with him."

Hayato and Ryohei both nodded. So the information was about Mukuro. That was good. So far Hayato's theory seemed to be going in the right direction.

"I believe he is the one killing off our members," Kaori said coldly. "The elders can't see it, but his motives are as clear as crystal."

"We feel he's shady to the extreme," Ryohei interjected.

"He's been working with us for as long as I can remember," Kaori began. "I'm not an active member as much, this club is my business and I run a clean house. I am my own boss and my own law enforcer, I don't ask anyone for favors. Truthfully, if my father or anyone else were to see me speaking to you, I'd probably end up like the dead men that have been littering our streets."

"So just how are you planning on explaining this?" Hayato asked, raising a skeptical silver brow.

Kaori shrugged. "The people here keep quiet if they know what's good for them."

Hayato didn't care much about what happened, but he didn't want the guilt of a woman's death weighing on his mind. "Well, if you're confident in that then continue. I just don't want to end up dead because of this exchange," he added sourly.

Kaori smiled. "I've already told you, Gokudera-san. You're off limits."

Hayato's brow creased. "I don't understand what that's supposed to mean, Junko-san."

Kaori laughed again. "It's pretty self explanatory. The yakuza aren't allowed to touch you, orders of Rokudo Mukuro."

Hayato startled. His heart stopped beating and his lungs stopped working. "Wh-what?"

"Oh please, don't act like you find this surprising. Haven't you found it odd that you've been here on a few occasions and each time came out unscathed? The yakuza aren't fond of you at all, Gokudera-san."

Hayato was still in a state of disbelief and judging by Ryohei's gaped mouth, he was too. Of course he understood why Mukuro did that, at least he thinks he does. But no one else knows why and it makes him look really bad.

"Your loyalty to the tenth generation commissioner is unbecoming of your talents, Gokudera-san. The yakuza could use a marksman like you. _I _could use a man like you," she smirked, trailing her fingers along her collar bone seductively. "There again, how loyal can you be if you're working with _that_ man?"

Ryohei looked over at him in bewilderment and Hayato shook his head angrily, clenching his fists.

"Don't go fucking spouting bullshit! I work for the Tenth and the Tenth only!"

Kaori waved a dismissive hand. "Gokudera-san, don't misunderstand. This is what it looks like to us on the outside. I was merely suggesting that if you are indeed working with Rokudo, hand him over to us or to the commissioner, Sawada-san, and join us. We can offer you a lot for your services."

"Like hell I would! I'd rather see all of your criminal asses behind bars, the lot of you! Either that or end up at the hands of the serial killer. Both ways are fine by me! You're fucking ridiculous, what a joke! Work for the criminals the Tenth tries so hard to put to justice? Ha!"

"Don't speak with such disrespect to Junko-sama!" the bodyguard to her right yelled. He stepped forward with a raised fist.

"It's fine, Yamazaki! Stay put and don't interrupt again!" Kaori snapped.

The bodyguard, Yamazaki, stepped back behind Kaori's chair and sulked.

"Well then... At the very least we can work together to get Mukuro out of Namimori District, can't we, detective?"

Hayato worked his jaw and nodded slowly.

"The yakuza work for Rokudo only because they are honorable men and they pride themselves on keeping their word," Kaori started. "Rokudo is here to collect on a debt owed from five years ago."

"Do you know what that is?" Ryohei asked.

"I do."

"Then tell us," Hayato urged coldly.

"My oh my... such a distasteful tone, detective. Do pardon me if I've offended you. I only wanted to put the offer on the table. You refused, the offer is gone and now it's time to get over it. Let's move on to more important things."

"Che. You're the one who's stalling," Hayato muttered.

"So impatient... I really like your friend, Sasagawa-san."

She was beginning to annoy Hayato like Bianchi did too.

"Kaori, just how much do you know about Rokudo Mukuro?" asked Ryohei.

"I know enough to know he's a sly and traitorous man. He isn't doing the yakuza any favors, he's drawing more heat and letting us take all the blame. The man who shot you, Gokudera-san... He was a disgusting man but he didn't deserve to die. His death is a result of his actions against you. Every member has been told not to lay a finger on you. Did you really think you could have come here and shoot up one of our pleasure houses and make it out alive?"

"I thought that was strange," Hayato mumbled.

"Does Mukuro have a thing for you, Octopus Head?"

Hayato nearly choked. "Fucking Lawn Head! Don't say such stupid fucking things!"

Kaori cleared her throat. "Whatever the reason, you're not allowed to be touched. Of course, Sousuke's death is just speculation but this is the theory I've come to. Especially since I overheard a conversation between himself and a partner of his, Kakimoto Chikusa."

Ryohei snapped his head over in Hayato's direction. "That's the man that's been working with Sawada!"

Hayato felt cold dread tug at his stomach. "They're infiltrating this case. Why?" he asked Kaori.

"My guess is because he's ordering the hits on our men," she said, pulling out another long cigarette. "And he needs to overlook the case to make sure he doesn't get discovered."

Hayato joined her this time, pulling out his filterless cigarettes and lighting one.

"The conversation I heard is something you'll be interested in, Gokudera-san. Rokudo Mukuro plans on overthrowing the commissioner, Sawada-san."

Hayato and Ryohei gaped, wide eyed in unison.

"I knew he had some ulterior motive," Hayato growled. "That fucking snake!"

"I'm gonna give him a beat down to the extreme!" Ryohei roared.

"Calm down," Kaori said. "There's more. He hopes that the case will force Sawada to step down, like Iemitsu-san had. He already has Mochida under his thumb but he knows he can't control Sawada-san like that. He wants control of this city and the commissioner of police is his next best option."

"Tch. Why in the hell would he want this piece of shit city?" asked Hayato.

"Hm, I don't really know, Gokudera-san. Perhaps it's because you reside here," Kaori teased with a grin.

"Che. Don't fucking talk such nonsense. I don't have anything to do with Mukuro," Hayato spat. "What else have you got?"

Kaori laughed with amusement. "Well... Rokudo also plans on starting a war between us and the _Sakura no Kami._ This is the reason for him killing the members of the _Hakai. _He is trying to implicate the _Sakura _are responsible for the murders."

"How do you know they're not?" Ryohei asked.

"Because they're just as angry with what's happening. Business is dwindling, no one wants to be out after dark for they fear what lurks in the shadows," Kaori said, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

"And who lurks in the shadows?" Hayato asked wearily.

"Rokudo's hitman," Kaori answered simply.

"Have you seen him?" Ryohei asked.

"I haven't, no. But there's talk of a tall man wielding a long blade. Like a samurai."

"Tch, another theory out of the Edo period. Seriously, who goes around killing people with a katana?"

"You've seen the evidence, Gokudera-san. Does it tell you differently?"

Ryohei nodded his head in agreement. "Kusakabe said the blade used is sharp and likely large to the extreme. It's got to be him."

"Has no one seen his face?" Hayato asked.

"Not long enough to describe it. Certainly not long enough to live to tell about it."

Hayato took a drag of his smoke. "What do all the victims have in common? You're affiliated with the _Hakai. _You must know who they are."

"I do. And that's what I'm getting to. The favor, the one Tomakazu in indebted to, is a cover up of a murder that went horribly wrong five years ago. Rokudo used his influence as a lawyer to clear all the names involved and no charges were filed. This was when Sawada Iemitsu was chief of police. Shortly thereafter he resigned, leaving the opening for Sawada-san. The public outrage of this case was too much to handle for Iemitsu-san. There was nothing he could do, Rokudo had too much power over that side of the law."

Hayato couldn't remember the murder or the case, it had been just before he made detective. "Who's murder was it?"

Kaori shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I know it was a witness to a very big crime Tomakazu was facing. He was facing real jail time, a life sentence."

"We can look it up in our database," Ryohei said to Hayato.

"No. You won't find it," Kaori said, smiling as she butt out her cigarette. "Rokudo covered the entire thing up with the help of Mochida-san and a few other people he has in his pocket."

"Mo-Mochida?" blurted Ryohei in disbelief.

"Yes. The mayor as well. This city is quite corrupt. The _Hakai _aren't exactly saints but we don't see Sawada-san as a threat. We commend him on his progress, but the problem is, he's too soft. His heart is too kind and no one is scared of him. He will never rule this city with an iron fist."

"That isn't his objective. He doesn't want to _rule _anything," Hayato remarked pridefully. "He is a man that wishes to restore order and peace to the district. He never has to get his hands dirty, that's what I'm here for."

"Ah yes, spoken like a true member of this century's shogunate," Kaori laughed softly. "Don't worry, Gokudera-san. We're calling a truce."

"You don't have the authority to do so, Junko-san. Tomakazu won't allow it."

Kaori sighed. "He will come to see eye to eye. I've got my father nearly convinced but before anything happens, your department needs to stop this. They need to stop Mukuro."

"I intend to," Hayato growled.

"Kaori, the victims... which ones were involved in the murder?" piped Ryohei.

"There are only two, Sousuke and Nisekoi, that weren't involved."

"Your buddy," Hayato murmured.

"I know. I didn't know he was on trial for that kid's murder. I would have never have asked him for anything," Ryohei said dejectedly.

"Che. Dumbass. You're just lucky the DA went easy on you and didn't ask too many questions about why you were offering empty immunities to their prey."

"I know," Ryohei repeated.

"It's possible Mukuro knew that Nisekoi was going to tell us something about the hitman," Hayato offered, smashing his cigarette into the ashtray on Kaori's desk.

"It is, but that would be your mistake," Kaori said. "Perhaps someone let it slip."

"I only mentioned it to Sawada."

"Well if you told the Tenth, it's possible he told Mukuro. It's not like he knew Mukuro's intentions." Hayato sighed. It felt good to have an idea of who could be behind the killings, even if it was Mukuro. It made perfect sense. Well, it did and it didn't. He still had a lot if unanswered questions and still a lot of suspicions regarding Kaori's motive in all this.

"What about Ikeda Nosaru? His death has been bothering me for a long time. He was too young to be involved in that murder case five years ago," Hayato said. "Also, his markings suggested he didn't join the yakuza until recently."

"No, he wasn't involved, but his brother was."

Ryohei looked over at Hayato in confusion and then back at Kaori. "Extremely impossible. Ikeda's file didnt mention anything about a sibling."

"Exactly. His brother, Ikeda Masaomi, was seven years older than he was," Kaori said, shifting in her chair. She glanced at the large silver clock covered in small mirrored tiles.

Hayato followed her gaze. They had been talking for almost a half an hour. If they took much longer, people might start to get suspicious. Whatever she plans on telling anyone who asks, a meeting with two cops - especially Hayato - is going to look conspicuous after more than an hour. It'll look like an interrogation.

"Rokudo had to cover that up. I don't know many details about the case itself. The older men are fairly tight lipped about that. What I know, I found out from my father. He wasn't there but he works closely with Tomakazu."

Hayato nodded but one thing still. didn't make sense to him. "If Mukuro went through all that trouble to cover up the murder case that those men were involved with, why is he killing them off now? You'd think that would implicate him, no?"

"I don't know why Mukuro would go through the trouble of killing off those men in particular, Gokudera-san. You seem like a very intelligent man, don't expect me to do your thinking for you."

"Tch. I don't need you to do anything for me. Now that I know about the case, all I need to do is cross reference the victims names with Mukuro's prosecution cases from five years ago."

"You won't find anything, Gokudera-san. Not even your boss knows about this case. Rokudo had to go through a lot to get this swept under the rug."

"He was the prosecution for the city," Hayato said. "There's got to be documentation somewhere."

Kaori shrugged. "That's your department, Gokudera-san. I've already given you enough information."

Hayato snorted. "I don't need you to do anything else."

"Octopus Head... Kaori has been extremely helpful!" Ryohei said, raising out of his seat.

"I'm not saying she hasn't been," Hayato said, taking a stand as well.

"Well, nothing comes for free. Remember that, Sasagawa-san. I expect to hear from you soon," Kaori said with a wink in Ryohei's direction. "Maybe Gokudera-san would like to join."

Hayato shot her a glare and she smirked. "In secret, of course. Wouldn't want Rokudo finding out, I might lose my head." She laughed softly.

"Che. Insensitive woman," Hayato muttered.

"He's got no sense of humour, does he, Sasagawa-san?"

Ryohei laughed like the funniest joke in the world had just been told. "This guy isn't funny at all to the extreme!"

"Let's go, asshole," growled Hayato.

"I'll see you later, Sasagawa-san. Same place, same time. Don't disappoint."

Ryohei gulped audibly and his face turned red. Hayato rolled his eyes as the bouncers moved forward. The one on her left opened the door and Yamazaki ushered them out of the office.

The other bouncer handed their guns back and Hayato felt a rush of relief to have his AutoMag safe within its holster, on his body.

Ryohei and Hayato saw their own way out of the club and didn't speak until they were outside where the music wasn't making their ears bleed. They had made it half way to their cars when Hayato spoke first.

"So you and the daughter of a yakuza, huh."

"Shut up," Ryohei muttered, his face turning red.

Hayato couldn't bite back the laughter. "Finally. _Finally _I have some dirt on you, asshole. I don't want to hear you mention my sex life _ever _again."

Ryohei remained silent, face scarlet and hands shoved into his pockets.

Hayato took pity on him and decided to talk about the information they had just learned.

"We've got to warn the Tenth."

"We can't just go in there and start accusing a cop of murder," Ryohei said.

"Mukuro isn't a cop, not like us. He's a snake and he's out for the Tenth."

"And apparently you too."

"Forget about me," Hayato said, lighting a smoke. "The Tenth needs to know all of this. If Mukuro is capable of killing anyone, he might go after the Tenth."

Ryohei nodded.

"I've got a lot of work to do. You think everything she said is true?"

"I know she's telling the truth," Ryohei said. "There's no reason for her to lie."

Hayato took a drag of his cigarette. "I don't know about that. How am I supposed to trust you hadn't developed _feelings _for her and believe her because you're stupid."

Ryohei scowled. "How do I know that isn't the case with your reporter friend?"

"He isn't relevant to any of this."

"Right. Anyways, Kaori doesn't have a reason to lie. She wants talk get rid of Mukuro as much as we do. We suspected that he was up to no good to the extreme and we have our proof. What are we gonna do about it?"

"We have to let the Tenth know first. I'll try to find out what I can on that murder she was talking about. In the meantime, don't breathe a word to this to _anyone._"

Ryohei nodded. "You've got a source?"

"Yeah. Pretty reliable."

"Good."

The two made their way in silence towards their cars. Hayato couldn't stop the fast track of thoughts that ran through his mind.

Now he had more of a reason to see Irie, he just hoped it wasn't too late to go there.

"Shouldn't you be the one to tell Sawada?"

Hayato sat on the trunk of Yamamoto's car. "No... I can't. I'm worried that he'd think I was trying to cause problems again."

"You really think Sawada would think that?" asked Ryohei.

"No, I doubt the Tenth would think that, but I don't want to stress him about by the possibility. It's just better that you do it. Besides, I've got to see my source about that murder. We don't have much time. If what Kaori says is true, then the murderer is finished with his kills. What happens next?"

Ryohei leaned on his car. "Mukuro moves forward with his plan to the extreme."

Hayato nodded. "Exactly... Where do you think she overheard that conversation?"

Ryohei shrugged. "Mukuro must spend a lot of time around Sakura Town."

"You know anything about that Chikusa guy?"

"No, not much. He works with Sawada most of the time. He's quiet, looks like a big nerd to the extreme. Glasses, tall and skinny. He's nothing at all like Mukuro."

"Completely inconspicuous," Hayato muttered.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"While I'm figuring this out its your job to protect the Tenth. Can I trust you with that?"

Ryohei scowled. "What the fuck do you take me for, asshole? Sawada is my friend too and I'm completely capable of watching his back to the extreme."

"Good." Hayato checked his watch. "I've got to get going if I'm going to make it."

Ryohei pulled out his keys. "Call me when you get something. We've got to work fast."

"I know, stupid Lawn Head."

"Fuck you, Octopus Head."

"Watch your back, asshole."

Ryohei turned back and grinned. "You be extremely careful too, fuck face."

Hayato let himself smile. He was glad that in the midst of all this chaos he could still have the normality of his partnership. It was the one constant that hasn't changed in these past couple of months.

He watched Ryohei get in his car and drive away before he got into his. The drive to Irie's place would be a long one but it would give him time to think.

He called Shōichi and told him he was on his way but didn't mention anything about what he learned from Kaori. Maybe he was just as paranoid as Irie but he couldn't be careful enough with the information. For all he knew, Mukuro could have his phone bugged too. Mukuro seemed to know everything about him and his actions and if Hayato didn't know any better, he'd swear the pineapple bastard was some sort of UMA. It really pissed him off and he'd be glad once he was finally rid of him.

He parked his car a few houses down from Irie's flat and checked the time on his watch again. It was close to eleven. He spent more time travelling between places than doing anything actually productive today but it would all be worth it in the end, once Hayato and Tsuna and Ryohei came up with a plan on how to proceed.

He checked his cell phone and was almost disappointed to see that he hadn't heard from Yamamoto yet. It had been a little over five hours and Hayato guessed he had been busy with the game he was covering. Except even Hayato knew there weren't any games that ran until eleven o'clock.

He opened his message app and decided to text Yamamoto before going into Irie's house.

_Hey baseball __freak._

Sent.

_You haven't bothered me yet. What are you doing?_

His thumb hovered over the send button. Hayato stared at the message. What was he doing? Sending messages to this guy like he cared. But the truth was, he did care. It was unusual to not hear from Yamamoto, especially because he hadn't said what time he'd be home at and Yamamoto was the type of guy to flip his switch if he thought Hayato was out doing something he shouldn't be.

But maybe Yamamoto didn't call him because he wanted to give Hayato space. Maybe he didn't need to constantly call and check in because he trusted Hayato.

Hayato hit the send button and cursed himself for being so stupid. He was probably never going to stop doubting, but in the end he knew how Yamamoto felt about him and he knew how he felt about Yamamoto. Well, most of the time.

He didn't wait for a response, he shoved his phone into his jeans pocket and knocked on Irie's door.

After a minute, Irie opened the door and smiled bleakly at Hayato.

"Ah, Gokudera-san, please come in."

Hayato stepped inside and Irie shut the door.

"Sorry I'm late," he said apologetically.

"That's fine. You're a police detective, I understand," Irie said, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

Hayato removed his shoes and walked into Irie's flat, taking a quick look around. It was a habit he had from both being in the mafia and being a detective. Always secure your surroundings first.

He sat down at the table and Irie stepped into the kitchen.

"Tea?" Irie called.

"Uh..- sure." He was debating on asking Irie for the information on the murder that Kaori spoke of. Maybe it was best that he do his own investigation first and see what turned up. He already felt like he was asking too much of Irie. Not to mention the danger Hayato was putting him in if Mukuro ever found out. He didn't want him to end up like Nisekoi, Ryohei's informant.

"S-so, let me get this straight, Gokudera-san... You're looking to get information on Yamamoto Takeshi?" asked Irie, coming back out of the kitchen with two mugs. He handed one to Hayato and took a seat at his computer desk.

Hayato wrapped his cold hands around the mug of tea. "Yeah. He's a reporter that's been working on the high profile case and I'd like to know a little bit more about his background. I haven't been able to find any files in our records at the station."

It wasn't a lie, he had checked the NMPD database before asking Irie to look.

"Do you want the information on the other target before I give you the information on Yamamoto-san?"

"Yeah, that would be great."

Irie adjusted his glasses and pulled a black folder out of a locked file cabinet next to his computer desk. It was different from the other folders he had given him yesterday.

"This file contains the name of the guardian that took him in after the Estraneo slaughter and the reports of the Lancia family murders. Attached are his Vindicare records too. I've done a lot of digging and I was careful, but this is all the information I was able to recover. I don't want to draw the attention of some unwanted watchers."

Hayato took the folder and nodded.

"Gokudera-san... Someone went through a lot of trouble to cover this up. I had to go deep... far deeper than I've ever had to research for a client before."

"To get his Vindicare files though... You must really have a talent," Hayato remarked.

Irie's eyes widened. "T-thank you, Gokudera-san!"

"Listen, Irie... He _is_ dangerous, so you be careful. He has mafia ties and I'm sure he's got an influential hold on the yakuza down in Sakura Town. And if he was really the one that was responsible for both families' mass murders, then we have no idea what he's capable of. He's made quite a mess in Italy and he's doing the same thing here."

Irie winced and clutched his stomach. He groaned and doubled over.

"Oi! Are you alright?" Hayato asked, raising out of his chair.

"I-I'm... I'm f-fine. I just... get really bad stomach aches from anxiety," Irie managed weakly.

"Oh." Hayato sat back in his chair. "I apologize, I didn't mean to upset you. I don't really know what I'm dealing with here myself. I'm only running on theories."

Irie cleared his throat and straightened up. He was pallid and teary eyed.

"Some stomach ache," Hayato muttered in awe.

"Ha... y-yeah. Gokudera-san, please... if you don't mind, can you tell me what you know about the target? I'm curious to know, after the information I received... I want to know what happened to him."

Hayato looked at Irie incredulously. He was caught off guard but he understood Irie's thirst for knowledge. He shared the same problem. He didn't want to reveal that he had been part of the mafia or who his father was either. Regardless of how honest Irie seemed, Hayato wasn't so easy to trust. Especially when Irie could so easily look into his life and sell it off without a second thought. He was willing to do it with Yamamoto, why wouldn't he do it with Hayato?

Hayato lifted a hand and scratched at his head emphatically. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

"Oh," Irie said disappointingly. "That's alright then."

There was a moment of silence and Hayato took out his glasses and opened the black folder.

"While you're looking at that... I'll start working on Yamamoto-san's profile. Is that alright with you?"

Hayato looked up at Irie. "Yeah, that should be fine."

"I'm not sure how it will take me but I'll try my best to be quick."

Hayato nodded. "It shouldn't take long, there might not have been anything on him in our records because he's clean."

Irie eyed him worriedly. "Gokudera-san... are you sure you want to do this? You might find something out that you can't handle."

Hayato arched a silver brow. "For someone who sells information, you sure are noisy."

Irie's eyes widened and his mouth twisted into a frightened grimace. "I-I do apologize! My... uh, I'm ah... I know that I do this but... but you and Yamamoto-san seem close and forgive me for overstepping boundaries... I just wanted to make sure-"

"It's fine," Hayato cut in. "I'm sure it's nothing but I'd just like satisfy my curiosity. You can understand that, can't you, Irie? You agreed to it in the first place, I'm here with the money. Let's move this along."

Irie frowned but nodded in agreement. Hayato felt a little guilty for doing this behind Yamamoto's back and even more so for asking a friend to betray him. But in the end there wasn't much he could do about that, Irie had said he'd do it. When it was all said and done, everyone in this world only looked out for themselves. There were the pushers and the fools that bought into it, everything was a barter and trade for something better. Everyone had their arm in that honey pot waiting to get their hands on that one sweet prize. He was no different and neither was Irie Shōichi.

Hayato flipped through to the back and found the full physical examination report and what he read was sickening. To read that a child had been violated in that way was disturbing enough but to know the child - the man - that it had happened to struck a chord. A painful chord.

The report read that Mukuro suffered from severe mental trauma. He showed no empathy or remorse and never spoke. After extensive physical and psychological examinations, Mukuro was deemed a sociopath, unfit to re-enter into society.

Hayato grimaced. Someone did this to him. The boy Hayato remembers wasn't that kind of boy. He was scared and timid but he was just looking for someone to get him out of his personal hell.

The more Hayato read, the more disgusted he became with the mafia and that kind of world.

In the movies the mafia is depicted of hardcore Italian men with heavy accents, lots of money, guns and drugs. And yes, for the most part that is true. But the mafia in Italy are _above _the law, just like everywhere else. They are corrupt and power hungry men who take everything for granted because they can get away with anything.

They deal in human trafficking and weapons and murder and drugs. They kill to get what they want and sell out their comrades to get to the top.

And they use whoever they can to achieve their goals or for their own personal entertainment and pleasure, all of which is what Mukuro had apparently been used for. And for a split second, Hayato was glad that he was born into the family he had been and not into the Estraneo family.

It was stupid and embarrassing but he suddenly felt cold and alone and wanted nothing more than the warm embrace of Yamamoto's arms around him.

_Where the hell is that bastard? _He still hadn't returned the message or even called back.

Hayato couldn't bring himself to read anymore. He felt like he needed to be comforted even though he wasn't the one that had to live through Mukuro's past but the actuality of that world was all too real. He felt sick to his stomach and his heart hurt. He shouldn't feel this way about Mukuro, he was a murderer. But knowing what he's had to go through to get to this point doesn't help, it doesn't make Hayato feel like he should feel.

He knows it's because of the dream, he knows it's because he keeps seeing the boy that was frightened and sad, and then seeing who that boy could have been... Someone as innocent as Yamamoto, someone he could have _loved._

Hayato set the folder on the table and took off his glasses. He rubbed his temples frustratingly and tried to shake off this feeling of _sympathy._ Mukuro wasn't that man, he was a disgusting snake that would stop at nothing to hurt someone to get his way, someone who Hayato was definitely convinced was a _murderer._

_Stop thinking, stop thinking._ _No matter what __he's a sly criminal, he chose this path instead of a righteous one. He's guilty no matter what his past was like._

Telling himself that seemed to help a little. He was a cop, he wasn't supposed to let emotions interfere with his work. Before Yamamoto came along, he was doing just fine with that. That damned bastard opened up an emotional dam and Hayato couldn't seem to stop the flow. That bastard made him soft but he had to learn to differentiate between the two. It was okay to lock his feelings away from work, from anyone else. Up until now he only knew anger and in order to be objective when it came to his work he needed to remember that.

He skimmed through a few more pages until he found the information on Mukuro's career as a prosecutor for the city. It seemed like he had a good track record but Hayato knew how law was handled in Namimori Middle District.

There was nothing here on any of his cases. He'd have to pull the files at work of all the cases Mukuro worked on and investigate them thoroughly himself. He needed to find a pattern that suggested he worked for the yakuza or that he was somehow affiliated with them. He needed concrete proof that he was pulling strings behind the scenes and that he was most likely involved in these killings if he was going to be able to build a case against him and bring him to justice and actually have it _stick._

Hayato was convinced of Mukuro's involvement but he didn't think he was the killer. Mukuro was too arrogant to get his hands dirty. He'd definitely have someone else doing the work for him if he was the one ordering the hits. The more he read, the more Kaori's statement made sense. Except for _why_ he was now killing off the men he had saved from going prison.

Which made Hayato curious. Maybe Mukuro had some sort of twisted sense of justice, some sort of vigilante complex. _Maybe _all the men Mukuro had tried to put away got off because of the yakuza's influence on the judges and mayor and Mukuro was killing off the men he thought were guilty. Men who were criminals that fell through the cracks of the justice system. Maybe Mukuro was pressured into the favor he did for the _Hakai _and now this was his way of repenting.

Hayato scoffed inwardly. There's no way Mukuro was that kind of saint. He was a bastard, evil right down to the core. He didn't have a theory as to why Mukuro was doing all this. He just needed more time.

All Hayato had to do was cross reference the names of the victims with the cases Mukuro had worked on as a lawyer and if any of them matched up, the pieces would finally start to fall into place. And once Hayato knew the backgrounds of the Estraneo family and the Lancia family and how Mukuro was connected to them, he could build a psychological profile against him.

It was all in the Vindicare records but Hayato couldn't stomach the report right now. From what he read Mukuro was definitely a psychopath. However now, though he was still creepy as fuck, he was calculated and calm most of the time. Hayato's seen the anger Mukuro is capable of and he knows that Mukuro is influential enough to have people work under him and Hayato knows you don't get that kind of influence without being some sort of God, which Mukuro obviously was not, or scaring the shit out of people. Hayato was definitely certain of the latter because Mukuro had even managed to spark a creeping fear inside _him_ too.

"Ah, I've found something that might be interesting but I can understand why it isn't in your records. The file was sealed."

Hayato turned to face Irie. "Sealed? For what reason? Under what jurisdiction?"

"Uh, federal, it appears but... but it wasn't sealed under proper protocol," Irie said, scratching his red mop of hair.

"Well what is it?" There weren't too many reasons as to why a police record would be sealed. Improperly at that.

"It appears to be... a police report from... five years ago," said Irie, squinting at the screen.

_Police report... from five years ago?_

_Think, Hayato... why is that familiar? Think..._

_"Where's your mom now?"_

_"She died five years ago."_

Hayato perked up. Realization hit. He recalled the afternoon he spent at Yamamoto's father's resteraunt. The day he told Hayato his mother had died five years ago but never revealed how she passed away.

"Unseal the file," Hayato demanded, getting up. He walked over to Irie and peered over his shoulder. He watched him type and click away and after ten minutes, Irie managed to unseal the police report. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Are you sure, Gokudera-san?"

"Jesus Christ, yes! Just give me the damned paperwork!" Hayato snapped.

Irie recoiled and winced and Hayato sighed.

"S-sorry." He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but dread started to build in the pit of his stomach. Ideas were flying through his mind before he had a chance to catch up to them. He needed to read the report and negate the conjecture that had already begun to brew in the back of his mind.

Irie nodded slowly and printed the paperwork like he was told. He handed them to Hayato.

"I... I don't feel right about looking into his past," he said quietly.

Hayato nodded. "That's fine, I understand."

He took the papers from Irie and picked up the file on Mukuro. He handed Irie an envelope with the retainer fee.

"Th-thank you," Irie muttered dejectedly. "Gokudera-san... can I ask you to not reveal to anyone, not even Yamamoto-san, where you got this information?"

"Che. I didn't plan on it."

"O-okay," Irie said softly, clutching his stomach.

Hayato felt like a jerk but he couldn't help it, the anxiety was putting him on edge. He tried to mentally prepare himself by clearing his mind and taking a deep breath. He needed fresh eyes and an empty brain to process everything.

He glanced at the first page. It was a police report stating that a little over five years ago, officers responded to a 187 at... the Yamamoto residence. The victim was his mother and there were three other casualities and one survivor. The survivor was the son, Yamamoto Takeshi. Yamamoto Tsuyoshi had later been notified by police.

Hayato felt his stomach plummet to the ground.

He quickly skimmed over the remainder of the report, not wanting to absorb the information he was seeing but he couldn't stop his eyes from looking so he squeezed them shut and wavered on his heels. He could feel all the colour drain from his face and he struggled to remain upright as vertigo swept over him. What he read hit him with such an impact that it nearly knocked him off his feet. His chest tightened and he was dangerously close to throwing up.

"_Shit. _Yama..moto," he choked. He didn't want to see anymore but it was already too late. He should have listened to Irie. He should have waited.

"Gokudera-san? Are you alright?" asked Irie.

Emotions flooded him, rocking him on his feet. "I... I have to go."

"Gokudera-san?"

Hayato staggered to the door. He stumbled unsteadily out of Irie's apartment, paying no heed to Irie's cries to come back.

He managed somehow to make it to the car and once he got near it, sure enough, he emptied his stomach contents on the rough and cracked asphalt. He wretched until his throat was raw and his stomach ached and there was nothing else to purge.

Panting, he got into the car and set the files on the seat. His cheeks were wet and his eyes burned and he wasn't sure if he had been crying because of what he read or the tears came after, when he was throwing up.

He gripped the wheel with white knuckles. He was too smart for his own good, he had already pieced things together. Everything was starting to make sense now.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking and he was on the verge of throwing up again when his phone rang.

He swallowed thickly and pulled his phone out of his jacket with a shaky hand.

"Go-Gokudera," he answered.

_"Octopus Head, __I spoke to Sawada. He's gonna to get the Internal Affairs Bureau involved."_

"G-good."

_"Everything okay, fuck face? You sound kinda rough."_

"I... I'm f-fine."

_"Are you sure?" _Ryohei asked on the other line.

_Are you sure, Gokudera-san?_

_Are you sure about this, Hayato? About everything? Are you fucking sure about __**everything**__?!_

Hayato shook his head and slid his thumb down the screen of his phone, ending the call with Ryohei.

The wheels in his brain wouldn't stop, they wouldn't stop with the possibilities. Things he's tried to suppress resurfaced, emotions he's never had took over and he couldn't breathe. His chest was tight, much too tight. The tiny box car felt like it was closing in on him and he clutched onto his shirt and gasped for air.

He struggled to open the car door and when he did, he crawled out of the car and collapsed to the pavement. He sucked in large, sharp gulps of air while he wheezed.

_Are you sure about this, Hayato?_

Hayato tore at the roots of his hair. "Stop it. Just fucking stop!" he cried. "I'm not sure, I'm not fucking sure!"

_You're not really sure or... you __**don't want to be**__?_

Hayato rolled over and lay flat on his back, gripping his chest and panting. Fat droplets began to fall, spattering his face with acrid smelling rain.

_I don't want to be sure. I don't want to know._

He tried to breathe, he tried to clear his mind, he tried to do anything but he was paralyzed in the middle of the road, unable to move a single finger.

_I can't breathe._

But he was breathing. His mind wouldn't stop racing long enough to focus on commanding his body to function.

The shrill tone of his cell phone sliced through his attack and he struggled to lift his arm to his ear. He gagged as he stifled the urge to vomit again and answered the phone.

"Go-Go-Goku-dera," he stammered.

"_Oya... Luciano. Is that you? You don't sound like yourself, kufufu."_


	23. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XXIII

**WARNING : **

Mid way through the chapter is another 6959 smut scene. It's part of a dream sequence and also includes Yamamoto. So it's 80 x 59 and 69 x 59 but together in one moment. For those of you who don't wish to read it, it begins after Gokudera says to Yamamoto 'Forever sounds good.' and for those who choose to read on, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_**Chapter XXIII**_

* * *

Hayato's blood ran cold. His insides iced over and the pit of his stomach felt like it had been gouged out to make room for the leaden anvil that pummeled his gut.

"Mukuro," he gasped through ragged breath.

_"Oya, it seems we didn't have our meeting today. I got caught up with a rather interesting person, kufufu."_

"What the hell... do you want?" Hayato tried to sound harsh but his wheezing made him sound meager.

_"I have some intriguing news for you. __Rumour has it that your serial killer is after the boss of the Hakai Dīrā next. Tomokazu Tosaru has been hiding out at Kokuyo High. I need you to warn him that he's being targeted and I need you to set up a steak out inside the building. We might be able to catch him this way."_

"Kokuyo H-High?" Hayato tried to settle his breathing. Though it was Mukuro, the fact that he'd been given something else to think about for a split second seemed to be calming him down some. "That abandoned... high school just... outside Sakura Town?"

_"I've already informed your partner. I won't go into detail on how annoyed I am that you two have decided to team up again without my permission. You can't just continue calling the shots, Luciano. You aren't in charge of this investigation anymore."_

"F-Fuck you, Rokudo. H-How do you know this?"

_"Kufufu, you're awfully dense. I've told you there isn't a place you can go or nothing you can do in this city without my knowledge. I've spoken to that club owner, she's given me a little more information. __She was a feisty little kitten but she eventually gave me what I wanted, free of charge kufufu."_

"What did you do to Kaori?!" Hayato demanded.

_"Kufufu. Don't you worry your pretty little head about that. Go and do your job. We haven't got much time. Tick tock, Luciano. Kufufufu!"_

"Wait. How do I know-" Before he was able to continue, Hayato heard the line go dead. What he meant to say and what he still feels is, what if this was a trap? He couldn't trust Mukuro. What had he done to Kaori after they left the club and how does she know about the serial killer targeting Tomakazu?

Well, the last question was simple. She knew who was connected to that murder Mukuro helped cover up. But then again, so did Mukuro. Which led Hayato full circle into believing that Mukuro was still connected to the killer. As to why he wanted Hayato there was a question he didn't have an answer for.

The rain pelted his face as he lay in the middle of the street. The coldness soaked through his jeans and permeated his bones.

This could very well be a trap. But what kind of trap exactly? Hayato was convinced that Mukuro wouldn't hurt him. But if he wasn't intending to harm him in any way, then what did he want him there for?

If the tip was true, all he had to do was make a call to Tsuna or Ryohei to find out. But on the other hand, if it wasn't true, Hayato didn't want to raise suspicion and get them involved in his personal affairs with Mukuro. He could use this as an opportunity to find out what Mukuro's intentions were. Maybe because of his infatuation, he'd be easy to reason with if Hayato pleaded with him to not harm the Tenth.

Hayato scoffed inwardly. Who was he kidding? Mukuro wasn't the type of man to be easily reasoned with. He was a man used to getting what he wanted when he wanted no matter the obstacles in his way. So maybe he couldn't ask him nicely, but Hayato was a strong and determined man. He wasn't some softie that was going to bend over and take it in the ass. No pun intended.

He was going to use this opportunity to get rid of Mukuro once and for all. He was a part of the mafia for a long time, an excellent marksman and someone with the knowledge of disposal. Mukuro has been a pest in his city, in his _life _for much too long. If he wasn't going to leave on his own accord then Hayato would make him disappear.

He sat up and his eyes fell on the green car in front of him. The car that belonged to his lover, a man he barely knew anything about before tonight.

A chilling thought crossed Hayato's mind then. What if Mukuro had Yamamoto? He couldn't get a hold of him and Mukuro wasn't at work today.

_"I got caught up with a rather interesting person."_

Hayato's eyes went wide. He scrambled to the car and got inside. That's the reason Mukuro wants him out there. All this work trying to frame Yamamoto for the murders isn't working, there isn't any way to tie him to the crimes without implicating Hayato and that isn't what Mukuro wants. So he took matters into his own hands and he's taken Yamamoto hostage and he's holding him at Kokuyo Junior High.

The wires in Hayato's brain were tangled in a web of possibilities and he couldn't figure out which one made the most sense. He needed to get to Kokuyo regardless and figure out what was going on. He'll decide on calling for backup once he gets there.

Hayato put the car in drive and he raced down Irie's street. He ignored the shivers that racked his body and the wet hair matted to his head and neck like silver rope. He wished that he had the siren in this car but then again, perhaps that was a good thing. The siren would probably draw too much attention.

Hayato tried dialing Yamamoto's number on the way, he didn't care about what he read in those files in this moment. He needed to know if Yamamoto was okay first, then he could ask questions later. When he only got a busy signal, Hayato pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal and threw his phone into the passenger seat. He hadn't noticed it before but the phone made a noise, indicating the battery was dead.

He wouldn't be able to call for backup or anyone else for that matter.

Dread began to tug at his stomach, heavy and thick like sewer sludge. It would take him a bit to get to the other side of town and he couldn't afford to waste any time. Mukuro might not intend on hurting him but that didn't mean he wouldn't do anything to Yamamoto.

Hayato was pretty sure that was the scenario. There wouldn't be any reason for Mukuro to be the one to call him to let him know that the killer was headed for some abandoned high school. It just didn't make sense. Why now? Why now all of a sudden was the murderer so easy to catch? And why out of all places would Tomakazu be hiding out there when Sakura Town would be the safest place to be?

Everything Hayato flew by was a blur. The street lamps bled into trees and the trees blurred in with the concrete. He couldn't even think straight anymore, the thoughts than ran through his mind had all become muddled and they no longer made any sense.

By the time he got to the part of town that was host to the dilapidated building, the rain had turned to sleet and the wind blew fiercely. It appeared there was a storm brewing and here in this ghost town, there were no lights for comfort and nothing to shield him from the elements.

Hayato got out of the car, patting his left side under his jacket where his gun was in it's holster. He breathed a sigh of relief and hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

The sleet hit his face like ice and stung like fire. White plumes of breath escaped his trembling purple lips. He pulled his leather jacket tighter around his body but it was no use. He was already soaked and cold, so cold that the chill seeped into his bones.

He looked around and found there were no squad cars, no sign of Ryohei or any other life. He had suspected that Mukuro had been lying. Hayato clenched his chattering teeth. He didn't want to have to kill Mukuro, but if he had laid so much as a finger on Yamamoto, he had no idea how he'd react. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to remain a lawful detective.

He took another look around the area before taking his first step away from the sanctity of Yamamoto's car.

Kokuyo High sat on the top of a hill, towering over Hayato. It's shadow loomed over the hillside, the blackness swallowing everything in sight. Hayato could see the some of the bricks had caved and the doors swung off their hinges. The structure was no longer a building that stood tall and strong, it looked angry and defeated that it had been left here to rot along with the rest of the small town.

The trees here were diseased and dead, their gnarly branches stretched out like sharp claws waiting to grasp anyone unsuspecting and drag them down beneath the rotting earth. The path leading up to the school was dangerous. The concrete stairs were jagged and broken with exposed rebar jutting out at various angles like a dull and rusted bed of nails waiting to impale the next unfortunate soul who took a fall. And he hoped it wasn't going to him. The sleet had already blanketed the concrete, making it slippery.

He tentatively took calculated steps up the stairs, maneuvering this way and that way to avoid falling to his death. Once he made his way to the top, he grabbed the rosary around his neck and kissed it, thanking whatever god that was listening that he made it through alive. He asked one more time for protection as he stared wearily up at the building that looked like it was standing on the last of it's crumbling pillars.

He cursed himself for the nonsensical fear he felt as he walked towards the front door. He couldn't afford to waste time here being scared. There were a number of things possibly happening just beyond them. Yamamoto could be in danger, the murderer could be actually there inside or both. Yamamoto could be in danger _with _the murderer. Maybe it had nothing to do with Yamamoto and Mukuro was actually telling the truth. Tomakazu and his small gang of thugs could be inside and he'd actually have to warn them that the killer was coming after him. None of the scenarios seemed simple and none of them seemed less likely than the other possibility. He just needed to stop being a pussycat and open the goddamned door.

Hayato drew in a deep breath and raised a shaking hand to the long steel door handle. He pulled open the door and it made a shrill scratching noise, like nails on a chalkboard. As soon as the door was opened a gust of stale and putrid wind invaded his nostrils, making him choke involuntarily. Hayato gagged and covered his nose with the wet sleeve of his jacket and stepped inside the darkness.

It was black. Pitch black. Not even the glow of the street lamps below made their way into this place. It was condemned in every sense of the word. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and they didn't. It was then Hayato realized he didn't have his pen light or any other light source. He'd have to make his way through the school blindly and hope for the best. He was really praying for a miracle now.

It smelled of rot and mold and stagnant air. There were probably tons of corpses of dead animals and feces that covered the floors. Hayato thought that even if he made it out of here alive, he was going to kill Mukuro for making him come here.

Hayato felt his way to a wall, the surface of it felt grimy and squalid. It made him shudder. He could hear the echo of dripping water from several directions in the darkness and continued to make his way towards them. He was hoping he'd find something, anything that would lead him in the right direction. If Mukuro was here, he was silent and lying in wait for the right opportunity to perhaps knock him out or worse. If the serial killer was here, he could be waiting for Hayato as well, waiting to finally get rid of the person that stood in the way of his killing spree. He stopped for a moment to listen intently to the sounds of the school but he could hear nothing over the howling of the wind that blew in from the broken windows and the pounding of hail on the roof top. The floor was slippery, it was already linoleum tile to begin with but judging from the constant rush of sleet he heard coming in from what he guessed where holes in the roof, the floors were also slick with water.

When he didn't hear anything, he continued to move forward. How he wished for his cell phone right now. That stupid piece of technology could be his life line in so many ways right now it wasn't even funny.

His shoe it something solid. Judging the sound it made and the fact that his foot couldn't move forward it was most likely a stair. He breathed a sigh of relief and searched for a railing. It was ridiculous, he couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face. If only the rain clouds would move out of his way so that he could use the light of the moon to guide him.

He finally grabbed hold of the railing and lifted his leg, landing on the first stair. He wasn't sure how many steps he'd have to take so each time he lifted his leg, he kicked out in front of him until his foot no longer hit solidity. He had managed to get to the second floor of the school.

He drew his gun then, not like it mattered much anyways because he couldn't see. The second floor was just as dark as the first. He felt along the walls, this time they were lined with lockers. There was nothing but the sound of his hand strumming against the metal and the constant drop of water. The silence was eerie. It was more unnerving because he was called here and there was nothing. There was nothing here in this decaying building except for him and some dead animals. He felt like an idiot for believing Mukuro. He had know idea why he was brought here other than to be made a fool of.

Each time Hayato came across a classroom he'd cast a quick glance inside and see nothing. His eyes had adjusted some to the darkness and now he was able to vaguely make out outlines of objects that he easily guessed were desks and chairs and other school apparatuses. He had made it to the end of the hallway and to another flight of stairs. He stood at the bottom debating whether or not he should turn around and go and leave this goulish school behind him to fall to nothing but bricks and mortar within this empty ghost town.

He sighed. In the end his curiosity will always get the better of him. Using the same method previous, he scaled the stairs quickly and as he reached the top with a gentle thud of his feet on the tile floor, he heard a loud bang and clatter that made him jump. His heel slipped through a puddle and he lost his footing. He fell backwards and he quickly reached out blindly to grab hold of the railing but that was wet too. His hand slipped and his feet went out underneath him again. Hayato fell down one, two, three stairs before realizing he was falling and there was nothing he could do to stop himself. He finally landed on a flat surface, the landing of the second floor and when he did, he hit his head with neck snapping, jarring force. When it connected with the hard tile, blazing pain seared through his skull and all he saw was white. He tried to clear away the glaring light in front of his eyes but it wasn't any use. He hissed with the pain and his vision slowly began to deteriorate. There was a shrill ringing in his ears and soon that began to reduce to a steady drone as his consciousness faded out.

* * *

_Hayato opened his eyes and rubbed them. He blinked a few times to clear away the fog__. He sat up and noticed was in a bed he didn't recognize, naked and instantly fear crept up his spine. Hayato felt a sense of deja vú._

_He had no idea how he got here, he had just been walking around Kokuyo High._

_Ah, but then he slipped and fell, hitting his head. He must be unconscious. So then this must be a dream._

_He was certain it was a dream when Yamamoto appeared at the foot of the bed, smiling his thousand watt smile._

_Hayato felt his own lips curl into a grin. Even though it was a dream, he was happy to see Yamamoto safe._

_"You're awake," he said, crawling on to the bed._

_"No, I'm dreaming," Hayato said with a snort._

_Yamamoto looked at him quizzically. "Why would you say that?"_

_Hayato ran his hand through Yamamoto's hair and leaned forward to kiss him. "Because you're here."_

_Yamamoto looked up at him and grinned. "Hayato... are you feeling okay?"_

_Hayato sighed. "Don't ruin the moment, you bastard. I don't have a lot of time," he said, pressing his lips to Yamamoto's again._

_"Haha, what are you talking about? Do you have somewhere you have to be?"_

_Hayato gazed into Yamamoto's eyes and traced down the scar on his chin. "I do."_

_"You can stay here with me, can't you?" Yamamoto asked, leaning in to place fluttering kisses along Hayato's shoulder._

_Hayato wanted to say yes. He didn't want to go back to the cold and dark building, he didn't want to go back to a world where everything was turned upside down. He just wanted to stay here, in this warm bed with this warm body where nothing else could get in the way of being with him._

_"I... I can't stay," Hayato whispered. He didn't want to alarm or confuse Yamamoto so he didn't say anything else. He couldn't say anything else. He was too distracted by the way Yamamoto's breath felt on his ear as he kissed his neck._

_"I want to be with Hayato forever, so please don't go."_

_Hayato took Yamamoto's face in his hands and kissed him. It was a slow, open mouthed kiss with their tongues sliding slowly in and out of each others mouths and over and under each other's tongues. Fingertips traced over skin in soft caresses__ and needy breaths were exhaled._

_"Forever sounds good," Hayato said_, _kissing over Yamamoto's scar._ _He closed his eyes and felt Yamamoto's lips move down his neck and then in the hollow of his collar bone. He grasped Yamamoto's hair and hissed as goosebumps spread across his flesh.__ Even though it was a dream, the idea of making love to Yamamoto felt good. It made him feel safe and happy. __No matter his much he tried to deny it, he loved him. He wanted to be where he was, wanted to be with him. His presence was warm and pure. It was like a drug and he was addicted, but Yamamoto's love was a good kind of high._

_He suddenly felt lips on his shoulder blade, opposite of where Yamamoto was kissing and he turned his head and opened his eyes to be met with__ Mukuro's blue ones. He wore his usual sly smirk but this time there was something alluring about it. This time it gave Hayato a pleasurable shudder._  
_He was confused about his feelings for Mukuro, that much __he knew. He had been drawn to Mukuro the first time he saw him, he had been transfixed by his aura when they were in the conference room and this was the second time he dreamed about him. Hayato didn't have to be a psychologist to know there was more to what he felt for Mukuro then just the initial feelings of dislike._

_"Luciano," he whispered and __he leaned over his shoulder._

_"Mu... kuro..."_

_Mukuro pulled Hayato's bottom lip in with his teeth and Hayato let out a gasp when Mukuro's lips closed over his._

_He couldn't make sense of it but he didn't pull away, he didn't recoil in disgust and he wasn't scared. __Hayato didn't seem to mind at all that __Mukuro's tongue was now in his mouth. In fact, he found himself responding by pressing a firm hand along Mukuro's jaw, curling his fingertips into his soft blue hair__ and returning the kiss._

_On the other side of him, he could feel Yamamoto's fingers sliding over his nipple, pinching and rubbing as he continued to kiss his neck and ear.__He shivered._

_"Hayato," Yamamoto whispered and Hayato could feel his hot breath tickle the hairs on the back of his neck_. _Mukuro's fingers were gliding across his ribs as he pulled away and began kissing down the other side of Hayato's neck. _

_Part of him was screaming to wake up while the other part of him was enjoying all the attention. The logical part of him was telling him that he hit his head pretty damned good if he was dreaming about being in bed with Mukuro. It was telling him he probably had a concussion. He was hallucinating. Suffering from delirium._

_The man he loved was on his right and the man he despised was __on his left. He couldn't understand it but having Mukuro touch him like this didn't feel at all like how he felt the time Mukuro locked him in the conference room. Maybe it _was_ because now he knew who Mukuro had been and the guilt inside Hayato had turned into some twisted sort of affection. Maybe it was because he felt safe with Yamamoto here too. Maybe it was because he was some sort of sex addict and it really didn't matter who it was as long as he was getting off. What man wouldn't want all the attention Hayato was getting right now?_

_Hayato was pretty sure he was confused when it came to his feelings towards Mukuro and he knows it's because he remembers who he was and who he could have been and that in his mind cancels out who Mukuro is now._

_Despite never saying it, Hayato believed that in his own twisted way, Mukuro was in love with him too. And Hayato could understand why Mukuro's version of love was different. He wasn't shown love, just like Hayato wasn't. The difference was that Hayato still had people in his life like Shamal and Bianchi that cared about him in their own way too. Mukuro had no one. He's never had anyone show him those kinds of feelings and he's never had anyone make him feel safe. Hayato had offered that to him, Hayato had shown him what it could feel like to have someone to care about you. It made logical sense why Mukuro held on to that and where his obsession for Hayato came from._

_And just knowing that, just knowing that someone depended on him for emotional support and the guilt he felt for what had happened, it made Hayato feel like giving this little bit to Mukuro was right. He owed him that much.__ At least he felt that way in his dream. Which he knew was his subconscious telling him something his conscious mind didn't want to admit._

_He felt both of their hands on his abdomen as he switched between kissing each of them. __He took both their erections in his hands and began stroking on either side._

_Mukuro's hand reached his cock first, closing around it and his thumb traced over the head. Yamamoto's fingers wrapped around the bottom of his shaft and each of them turned their wrists in a different direction, making Hayato moan.__ He felt like he was drowning. He felt like his conscious and logical self had left a long time ago. __This felt too good to be right._

_Mukuro bit down on his shoulder and followed the assault with his tongue. He pressed his thumb into the slit and Hayato uttered a mew that made Mukuro chuckle._

_"Kufufu, did you enjoy that, Luciano?"_

_Hayato nodded and Yamamoto sank his teeth into the side of his throat and moved his middle finger along the crease of Hayato's ass. He pressed against his perineum with his fingertip and it made Hayato call out his name on a hitched breath._

_"Does that feel good, Hayato? Say my name again," Yamamoto whispered. He smoothed over his perineum again and pushed his fingertip tentatively against Hayato's twitching muscle._

_"T-Takeshi," Hayato breathed as Yamamoto nibbled his ear lobe, the metal from his earrings making a clacking sound when they came. in contact with his teeth._

_Mukuro pressed his thumb down on the slit of his cock and rubbed it in circular motions. He tugged on Hayato's hair with his free hand._

_"Oya. I want you to say my name like that." __Mukuro __clamped down on Hayato's shoulder again, this time harder, his teeth sinking into Hayato's flesh._

_"M-Mukuro!" Hayato called out as the sting from his shoulder sent a current of electricity down his spine.__ Mukuro lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked precum off the tip. Hayato watched him with bated breath and then took two of Mukuro's fingers into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around them and watched Mukuro's lips curl into a smirk. He leaned in, pulled his fingers away and closed his mouth over Hayato's. He could feel Mukuro's fingers trace down his chest and over his cock and down the crease. He slipped a finger in alongside Yamamoto's._

_Hayato tensed and let out a cry. He felt his face flush with the embarrassment of such lewd sounds that came from his mouth and the sounds their fingers made in his ass. He was mortified but then he had to remember, this was a dream and trying to understand it or stop whatever was happening was no use. He was free to let go and enjoy the attention of these men while they pleasured him and he pleasured them, free to sound as wanton as he wanted to._

_"Let's make love, Hayato. I'm at my limit," Yamamoto moaned in his ear._

_"Luciano... I want you. I've wanted you for a long time," whispered Mukuro, wet against his neck._

_Hayato dug his heels into the bed, unknowingly spreading his legs. He arched his back and moaned to the figurative ceiling. __He couldn't answer either of them. The pleasure of their fingers in his ass was driving him over the edge. Really, this felt so morally wrong but so sinfully amazing. It should be enough, though. Yamamoto should be enough. He is enough, but this is a dream and Hayato has unexplained underlying feelings for Mukuro so it's not wrong. It makes sense. Maybe._

_Yamamoto growled. "He's mine."_

_Mukuro used his free hand to turn Hayato's face so that he could smash their lips together and Hayato snaked his tongue through his open mouth. He felt amazing and he didn't care who was going to fuck him first, he just knew that he wanted them. Both of them._

_Mukuro broke away after leaving Hayato breathless and glared over his shoulder at Yamamoto. "He was mine first, kufufu."_

_Yamamoto grabbed Hayato's hair and tugged his head so that he was able to mesh their lips together, far more sensual and slower than the lip bruising kiss he shared with Mukuro. Yamamoto knew exactly how to kiss Hayato to get a reaction out of him. He was his first kiss after all. The way he moved his tongue leisurely over Hayato's tongue and teeth and then sucked on his tongue elicited a moan from Hayato__ and he couldn't get enough. __When Yamamoto pulled away, still fingering Hayato and making him moan, he narrowed his eyes and smirked._

_"Only I can get him to make such erotic sounds."_

_Mukuro, still with his finger inside Hayato, grinned maniacally. "Oya? Is that a challenge, Yamamoto Takeshi?"_

_"There's no contest, Hayato loves me," Yamamoto said smugly. He skewered his finger deeper into Hayato, scraping gently over his prostate._ _Hayato trembled, arching his back._

_"Fuck!" he cried._

_"Not for very much longer," Mukuro sang, licking a hard stripe up Hayato's throat. "Tell him, Luciano. Tell him you love me."_

_"Tell him, Hayato. Tell him that you've promised to be with me forever."_

_Hayato couldn't say anything, he was too lost in the sensation of getting fingered by two men at the same time while both men kissed and bit and caressed and licked every other part of his body. He didn't care about any of that right now, who he loved didn't matter. He wanted that release he was so close to. He's never had such a realistic and vivid dream, there was nothing he could hold into comparison to this._

_"Say it, Hayato," demanded Yamamoto as he stroked over his prostate again._

_"Takeshi!"_

_"Say it, Luciano," Mukuro urged, __pushing his finger in deeper._

_"Fuck, M-Mukuro!"_

_"Who do you want, Hayato?"_

_"It's me that you really want, isn't Luciano?"_

_Hayato could feel the pleasure mount, pooling deep in his belly and spreading down to his groin. He gripped the imaginary bed sheets that felt too real for comfort. __He was about to come, he could feel it. If both of them could just shut the fuck up so he could concentrate._

_"Tell me," both of them demanded in unison._

_Almost. He's almost there. __"I want," he moaned breathlessly. "I want..."_

_But before he could come, kept hearing Mukuro call his name. Except Mukuro was right here, kissing him. He felt like he was descending deeper into the depths of lust, he couldn't focus on anything and everything went black._

* * *

"Luciano!"

Hayato's eyes fluttered open and at first all he could see was darkness. His eyes began to focus and the only thing he could see clearly was a silver trident dangling in front of his face.

He blinked a few times, raising a hand to touch the trident. The metal felt cool on his fingertips. He felt disoriented and confused and for a second, wasn't sure if this was another dream or if it were reality.

"Oya, have you woken from your little nap?"

The trident swayed and the shadow above him moved, allowing for a sliver of moonlight to stream in through the window by the stairwell. Hayato looked up to find Mukuro's face within inches of his own. He appeared amused, wearing that sly grin of his and one thin blue brow cocked.

"What..." Hayato's tongue felt thick in his mouth.

"It appears you've fallen and hit your head. I've never taken you for such a clumsy man, Luciano. Kufufu."

Hayato's face flushed and he recalled fragments of the strange dream or hallucination or the temporary insanity that had occurred while he had been unconscious. Being in such close proximity to this man was unnerving.

"F-fuck you, Mukuro. And I've t-told you... it's _Gokudera._ Don't call me with such familiarity, che."

Mukuro's smirk widened. "I'm sure you've figured it out by now, _Gokudera Ha-ya-to_. We've known each other for quite some time."

Hayato became aware of the throbbing in his head. It was worse, it felt more like his head had been split open. He still lay haphazardly at the bottom of the third flight of stairs.

"Why did you tell me to come here?" he asked, still groggy and ignoring Mukuro's invitation to revisit the past.

Mukuro stood on the stair he had been kneeling on and outstretched a hand. "I've already told you, the serial killer you've been after is supposed to come after Tomakazu here. I figured as the lead detective, you'd want to claim the fame of bringing that man to justice finally. I'm sure Tsunayoshi would be very pleased with you, kufufu."

Hayato reluctantly took Mukuro's hand and stood, way too quickly. His vision blurred as vertigo hit, causing him to rock on his feet and crash into Mukuro. He shamefully inhaled and found that Mukuro smelled good. Not like Yamamoto, but the scent of him was near intoxicating. Hayato felt his face heat up once again and was disgusted that he even felt this way about this vile man. Regardless of the dream he had or his past, Mukuro was still this Mukuro. A man that threatened him, threatened the Tenth and threatened his relationship. A man that lied and deceived to get what he wanted. A possible murderer, a known psychopath and Yamamoto's possible captor.

He quickly pushed Mukuro away and was grateful for the darkness that surrounded him to hide the tell tale reaction on his face.

"Kufufu. You can try and act unaffected but I can hear your heart racing. It's quite an amazing sound." Mukuro reached out and brushed a few strands of hair away from Hayato's eyes. It made his heart flutter.

Why... why did he feel like this? _How_ could he feel like this?

"S-shut the f-fuck up," Hayato muttered, turning away from him. Where is the Tenth? Where is my partner, my backup?" Hayato lifted a hand and gingerly touched the back of his head. He felt the warm and sticky substance that tangled his hair. Just as he suspected. He _had _split his head open. He could still feel semi coagulated blood oozing from the wound.

"If you hadn't been so impatient, you all could have gone in together. They're on their way of course."

"I don't believe you. Why are _you _here?" Hayato asked.

"Kufufu. I'm the lead agent on this case. After you get your fifteen minutes of fame, the perpetrator becomes mine. I'll be taking him back to Tokyo. You should know that, Luciano."

"I told you to stop calling me that! We're not close like that! I'm not that kid anymore."

Mukuro placed a gloved finger to Hayato's blue tinted lips. "Oya, keep your voice down. You wouldn't want to scare off the killer, would you?"

"Che! You're real fucking troublesome, you know that? I've already told you I don't believe you. Why don't you tell me the real reason you've brought me here... Seventeen."

Mukuro's eyes widened and Hayato saw the blue in his right eye transition to red. He's never seen such an odd phenomenon before, he didn't even know if there was a name for it. It shamefully intrigued him.

"You do remember," Mukuro said with a cunning smile.

Hayato scowled though he was pretty sure there wasn't enough light where he was standing for Mukuro to see it. "I only remember the first time we met."

Mukuro's lips pressed together. He looked out the window and then cast a sideways glance at Hayato. "Hm. Must be nice for you to so easily forget."

Hayato's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about? I just told you I remember the day we met. When we were kids, in my father's castle."

Mukuro chuckled. "Kufufu. Now's not the time for this conversation. You're on the clock, bakufu dog."

Hayato made a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. "When is the time? You've been fucking with my life since you stepped foot in Namimori. What's your real objective, Seventeen?"

Mukuro shot Hayato a steely glare. "Don't call me that."

Hayato smirked. He finally found an Achilles heel. "Hn. Doesn't feel good, does it, Seventeen? To be called such a hated name from a past you'd rather not remember."

"That was never my name," Mukuro uttered through clenched teeth.

"Luciano was never mine."

"Aren't you the least bit curious about your serial killer? Shouldn't that be your top priority, _Gokudera-kun_?"

Hayato shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. I'm more curious as to what your angle is in all this."

Mukuro smirked. "My angle? I haven't got one. I'm simply here because the mayor and the director of the bureau requested that I assist the lowly officers of Namimori District catch a meager serial killer."

"Tch. That's a lie and you know it. I meant, what's your angle with the Tenth? What kind of plan are you hatching to have him removed as chief of police?" Hayato desperately wanted to find someplace warm and comfortable to curl up and sleep. He was freezing and tired and in a lot of pain. He'd probably need stitches in the back of his head.

Mukuro raised a skeptical brow. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Luciano."

Hayato ignored the use of his childhood name for the sake of veering off topic again. "Don't play dumb, you bastard. I know about -"

"You know nothing. You haven't gotten a clue about anything that surrounds you, Luciano. Why don't you be a good little boy and go do your job? How long do you think the killer will sit around here for?"

"Che! Don't fuck with me, Mukuro. There isn't anyone here. You've lured me out here because you're fucking obsessed with me. You need to -"

"Kahahaha! That's awfully conceited of you, Luciano. My, what a big ego you have there!" Mukuro stepped up to Hayato and leaned in dangerously close.

Hayato could feel his breath on his skin and he was able to see his heterochromatic eyes up close. They were really a marvel to look at. They were rare and odd and Hayato has always been interested in the abnormal. He found himself staring right back at Mukuro, staring intently right into those eyes.

"What do you know about obsession? What do you know about _anything_? You can't even remember who I was, how can you speak as if you know me?"

Hayato felt angry. This man had the nerve to invade his space, invade his _dreams _and do everything in his power to destroy the things in Hayato's life that made him happy.

"I know who you are. You're a pathetic and lowly man who's so miserable with your own life that you need to bring anyone that's happy down with you. You're a snake. You're deceitful and untrustworthy and you're dirty. You've got ties to the yakuza, you cover up murders... And back then, you were a scared and lonely little boy and terrible things happened to you and I don't blame you for what you've become, it's your defense mechanism. Because in the end... In the end, you're still the same scared and lonely little boy you were the day I met you. The only thing that's changed is this ridiculous façade of yours."

Mukuro stared down at Hayato, there was no distance between them. He could feel Mukuro's heart thudding against his chest, proving to him that everything he said was true. Mukuro was just a scared little kid inside an adult's body that had to become the way he was in order to protect himself. Hayato was smart enough and open enough to understand that and accept it. It didn't mean he had to like him. It didn't mean he owed Mukuro anything.

"I'm not that person anymore. I've been down six paths of hell since I met you, every one progressively worse. You don't have any idea of who I am, and you have no idea of how I feel. Especially about you." Mukuro's voice was cold, unlike his usual flippant and buoyant tone. He moved in closer so that his lips brushed Hayato's and the tips of their noses nudged each other.

Hayato stiffened. His eyes went wide and his mind raced in tandem with his heart. He couldn't explain it but even though he hated Mukuro, it never failed that he fell under some sort of enchantment whenever he was this close. Instinct told him to just close that minute space and figure out what he really felt. But he couldn't. Not after everything that's happened.

"I... I... "

"This isn't the place that I'd want to hear what you're about to say. Save it for after you apprehend the killer," Mukuro said, his breath hot against Hayato's lips.

Hayato let out a frustrated sigh. He didn't know what to say, he wanted to apologize but how could he? How could he apologize to the man that's made his life hell for the last month? How could he apologize to the man for something he had nothing to do with? True, he felt some guilt but it wasn't enough to override all the damage Mukuro has done up to this point.

"There will be a time, you'll see," Mukuro said, Hayato didn't understand what that meant, his message was awfully cryptic.

Mukuro leaned back and smirked. It appeared he was back to his usual self and Hayato broke out of his trance.

"If the killer is really here, then where is he? Where is Tomakazu hiding? I haven't heard anything since I've been here."

"Tomakazu Tosaru and his small group of thugs must be upstairs, kufufu. Haven't you figured that out?"

_Come to think of it, _Hayato thought. _Wasn't there a loud noise before he fell? A gunshot maybe? No. Perhaps something falling, like a desk or a chair?_

"How long was I out for?" Hayato asked, ignoring Mukuro's asinine remark.

"Not long. A few minutes maybe. Now, are you coming or not?" Mukuro headed up the stairs.

Hayato reluctantly followed behind him.

Mukuro chuckled again. "Kufufu, watch your step this-"

Mukuro was interrupted by a loud crackling sound that ripped through the silence of the empty school. Shortly thereafter there was another loud crackling _boom! _that resounded off the hollow walls.

Hayato looked up at Mukuro who was looking down at him. They both drew their guns in unison.

"Those were gunshots!" Hayato exclaimed as he took off up the stairs past Mukuro. "Be careful!" he whispered loudly behind him. Mukuro nodded and followed him up the stairs.

They quickly yet surreptitiously made their way down the long, dark corridor, checking each classroom as they went. Now they were closer and Hayato could hear strangled cries and more gunshots. They were near deafening at this distance.

He turned to Mukuro wide eyed. "He's already here?! When?!"

Mukuro shook his head and shrugged. "The suspect must have entered the building through another route... We need to get in there without being noticed."

Hayato slid past another classroom, peering inside with his gun ready. Nothing there. He looked around, squinting in the dark for another way the killer could have made it up to the third floor. "Is there another way to get up here?"

"- away with this!" The disembodied voice was followed by a loud blood curdling cry.

"That must be Tomakazu. Sounds like it's coming from the last classroom. Move it!" Mukuro urged. "Go, I'll cover you."

Hayato looked back at him and tried to gauge the look in his eyes. This wasn't the time for thinking or pausing but he no longer felt like this was a trap and the thought of Yamamoto being here was ridiculous. He was probably at home sleeping. After all neither one of them had slept much in the last few days. The interesting person Mukuro had spoken of could have very well meant Kaori.

He was going into a dangerous situation and the only back up he had was Mukuro. He had to trust that Mukuro would have his back. With a curt nod, Hayato moved towards the last classroom. Fear mounted high in his gut and his heart hammered against his chest. This was it. Without no escape, the murderer would be caught, in the act at that, and Hayato would be able to rest easy. He'd be able to move on with Yamamoto, go to the Shōgatsu festival with the Tenth and he'd finally be able to settle things with Mukuro once and for all. If the murderer was connected to Mukuro, he'd nail his ass too.

Hayato drew in a deep breath and swung into the classroom, AutoMag first. There was no point in sneaking up on him, there was nowhere for the killer to run.

Before taking a moment to absorb the scene, Hayato announced his presence loud and clear.

"Namimori Middle P.D! Freeze, you bastard! You're under arrest!"

He took that minute now, exhaled a long and shaky breath and his eyes widened as he drank in the picture in front of him.

The storm outside had stopped and the clouds had cleared, opening up the sky. From what he could see, dark blood splattered the walls and ceiling. There were five bodies Hayato counted, with holes in their guts and holes in their chests. It looked like a blood bath in this classroom, a scene out straight out of a horror film. It reminded Hayato of Italy.

And centered in the middle of the room was a man in a suit wielding a long katana, his back turned to the detective. Hayato's eyes widened in horror as the man released the head of Tomokazu Tosaru from his clutches. He audibly gasped in fright as the head hit the floor and rolled within a few inches of his feet. He looked down on the milky eyes and lolled out tongue of the once _Hakai Dīrā _boss and bit back the bile that rose in his throat. Hayato watched as the man pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the blood clean off until his blade shone bone white in the moonlight.

He was actually _scared_ of this man. All this time he had been thinking Mukuro had something to do with this, and maybe he still did but... this man that stood in front of him was capable of such _heinous_ things... it took Hayato's breath away and not in a good way.

Hayato drew in a sharp breath and raised his gun, aiming it for the arm that held the katana. As much as he'd like to kill this fucker, he was still an officer of the law even if the justice system was corrupt. He needed to make the Tenth proud and make everything right. This was his redemption.

"Drop your weapon," Hayato said coolly and sternly.

The man went rigid. He didn't release his grip on the sword and he shifted so that moonlight streaming in from the large, gaping hole in the school roof cascaded over him like a spotlight.

Hayato can't stop the strangled sound that escapes his lips. He can't get his heart to resume beating. The blood in his veins is thick and like ice and his stomach felt his blood run cold as his stomach plummeted to the tiled floor below the soles of his shoes. His lungs constricted and he struggled to draw in a breath and when he did it was the man's name, shallow and ragged.

"Yama... moto..."

He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu, and everything that he had read in Irie's information, everything he had figured out and prayed to not be true... Literally like his worst nightmare becoming his worst kind of reality.

Yamamoto looked over his shoulder, his eyes are dark and cold. There's remnants of a smoldering black fire still lingered within them. They're nothing like _his _Yamamoto's eyes. His lips twitch into a malicious smirk, slow and deadly.

"Hayato... What are you doing here?"

Hayato could feel a lump forming in his throat and his heart began to ache. His knees became jellied and he had to force himself to stand. He felt like everything had been tripped away from him in this moment and he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He kept telling him this couldn't be real but his eyes weren't deceiving him. Yamamoto was there, right in front of him. Yamamoto was a killer. Yamamoto was nothing but... a liar.

He narrowed his eyes and swallowed the lump as Yamamoto turned around.

"I said drop... your weapon," Hayato uttered, his voice quivering and full of uncertainty.

"Hayato," Yamamoto said, his hand tightening around the hilt of the sword. "I asked what you're doing here. Now answer the question."

The tone of his voice was different too. It was low and hollow and cold. This wasn't _his _Yamamoto. It couldn't be. But his eyes weren't deceiving him. This _was _Yamamoto. The same Yamamoto who called him _baby,_ the same Yamamoto who took care of him when he was sick, the same Yamamoto he fell... in love with.

Hayato could feel his lips tremble and he could see the gun shaking in his unstable hand. Hayato's eyes are wide, he can feel them. His heart is hammering so hard in his chest that it hurts. His lungs have expanded at their max capacity but he can't seem to exhale the breath that lies there stagnant. He feels like he's going to be sick again but there isn't anything left to expel.

Yamamoto cants his head to the side, his lips curling into the most insidious grin Hayato has ever seen on his face. Even though his chest heaved rapidly, he seemed so calm.

"Ah, don't make that kind of face, Hayato. You look like you want to cry."

He took a few steps closer and Hayato couldn't stop the tremors that wracked his body. His mind was screaming to get a hold of himself, don't freeze up. _Move!_

"Hm? I thought you liked this side of me. Isn't that right, Hayato?"

Hayato can't find a voice to respond with. The initial shock hasn't passed. The actual _reality _of this. The guilt and the betrayal he feels is so overwhelming, it's so heart breaking. This isn't _his_ Yamamoto. It isn't. He doesn't want to believe it.

"Th-th-this isn't..." Hayato doesn't have the resolve to finish his sentence.

"Drop your weapon."

Hayato turned to see Mukuro step in behind him. His blue and red eyes were narrowed, his gun pointed at Yamamoto's head. His blue hair was tied back and it flowed straight down the length of his black tench couldn't explain it but a sense of relief washed over him.

"Rokudo Mukuro," spat Yamamoto.

"Yamamoto Takeshi," uttered Mukuro in disgust.

Hayato looked from each man, unsure of what to do.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him," Yamamoto said, raising his sword to his chest.

"Kufufu. I thought I told you I wasn't going to listen to trash like you," Mukuro ground, pulling the safety back on his shining silver revolver.

"What the... fuck is... going on here?" Hayato gasped. He felt like he was having an asthma attack. The air in here was dense.

Mukuro cast a glance beside him. "It's exactly what it looks like. This man is Namimori's serial murderer, the Headless Samurai. Yamamoto Takeshi."

Hayato couldn't find the will to speak, he could barely find the will to remain standing. His knees were shaking, threatening to buckle at any given moment.

"Come to me, Hayato. That man is dangerous," Yamamoto commanded.

"Kufufu, _I'm _dangerous? I'm not the one that's just slaughtered five men and a yakuza boss. I'm not the one standing with a katana soaked in blood. Hoe much longer did you think you could pull off being the knight in shining armour? This _hero_ act?"

"I told you to stay away from him!" Yamamoto snarled, flicking his wrist and whipping his blade so that it caught the light of the moon.

"Kufufu. How original. As if I'd allow Luciano to fall prey to the likes of someone as dull as yourself," Mukuro mocked snidely.

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. His face was feral and with a low, guttural growl that reminded Hayato of a rabid hound, he lunged forward with his blade in hand.

Hayato snapped out of his haze and his instincts kicked in. With lightning speed he put himself between Mukuro and Yamamoto, one arm shielding him and the other arm outstretched, his gun aimed point blank towards Yamamoto's head.

"Don't you fucking move!" he screamed, his voice high and shrill. "Don't move!"

Yamamoto's eyes widened and for a split second Hayato thought he could see clarity in them but then they flashed with a blazing black fire.

"Get out of my way, Hayato," he said vehemently. "I don't want to hurt you."

Mukuro set his hand on Hayato's arm in front of him and lowered it. He leaned in close, so close that Hayato could feel his lips brush the bottom of his earlobe. "Hasn't he hurt you enough, Luciano?"

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed with perplexity. But that emotion too was quickly erased when Hayato backed away from him, gradually inching closer to Mukuro as Yamamoto slowly advanced towards them.

"I said don't move. I don't know what's going on here but you've completely lost your fucking mind!" Hayato shouted, the gun in his hand wavering. "This... This!"

"It's exactly what I've been trying to tell you, Luciano. This man is a cold blooded killer," Mukuro said over his shoulder.

"Get away from him," Yamamoto snarled. "And stop calling him that!"

"I'll call him whatever I like. That is his name."

"Both of you just stop!" Hayato shouted, slamming his hands over his ears.

"I can't believe you're protecting this guy!"

"From here on out, I'll be the one protecting him from _you,_ Yamamoto Takeshi. I won't hand Luciano over to someone like you!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Hayato screamed. "Both of you, it's enough!"

"Now... Drop your weapon. It ends here. Everything ends here. You and Luciano, your career, your _life. _Drop the sword because believe me, I won't hesitate to shoot you."

Yamamoto glared at the both of them, his blade still tight in his grip. "I won't let go of it until you're dead or until you're prying it from my cold fingers!"

"Kufufu. I guess it'll be the latter then," Mukuro chuckled, wrapping his index finger around the trigger.

Hayato turned to Mukuro wide eyed. "No! Don't..."

"Luciano-"

"No one is killing anyone!" Hayato turned to face the man he loved but had so many conflicting feelings towards in this moment. "Yamamoto..._please. _Drop the fucking sword."

Yamamoto frowned ever so slightly and dropped the sword to the ground unceremoniously. It landed with a loud clatter, splashing into a puddle on the tile floor.

"Step away, slowly," Hayato gasped, motioning his gun to the side. His lungs began to seize again and his heart resumed pounding hard against his sternum.

Yamamoto sighed and stepped back, kicking the blade over with his foot.

"Your hands... you fucker! Let me see... them!"

"Relax, Hayato. You sound like you're going to have a heart attack."

"Relax? You want me to _relax_? Are we in the same moment here? Because I'm pretty sure this is the moment where I've just walked in on you killing a whole fuckload of people!" Hayato couldn't stop shaking. _This... this is why I should never have gotten close._

"It's not what it looks like," Yamamoto offered.

"Not what it looks like? Tell me, Yamamoto, what is this _supposed _to look like if it's not a fucking slaughter house with you at the fucking center of it all?!"

Mukuro sighed. "Don't give him a chance to explain anything, Luciano. It won't matter."

Hayato swallowed audibly in an attempt to swallow the hardness forming in his throat. _It matters to me..._

"You're right. It doesn't matter. I'm... I'm going to arrest -"

"Hayato, just listen-"

"He doesn't have to listen to you!"

"I don't want to hear it!"

He moved so fast that Hayato barely had time to blink. Yamamoto grabbed Hayato and shoved him against the wall. His head hit it with a hard _thwack!_ and he saw a flash of white. He hissed in pain and winced as he shook his head clear of the blinding pain. Hayato slowly opened his eyes to see Mukuro with his gun jammed into Yamamoto's temple. He looked back at Yamamoto and for a fraction of a second, underneath all the anger, Hayato could see the real Yamamoto. The same one who just got a little frustrated when he didn't get his way, the same Yamamoto that laughed and held him and told him. he loved him. It made his heart stop and he couldn't move. He had no idea what to do and it was tormenting him.

"Unhand him," Mukuro said.

Yamamoto laughed. "Admire this handiwork, Rokudo. I can kill you just as quickly."

"Kufufu, it won't take long for a bullet to rip through that empty skull of yours. You're finished, Yamamoto Takeshi."

"Stop!" yelled Hayato. "Stop talking like this!"

"It will be alright, Luciano. You'll see. I'll put an end to this man's existence and spare you from his clutches... I'll protect _you_ now," Mukuro said with conviction, sliding his fingers down a lock of Hayato's hair.

In a flash, Yamamoto's arm lashed out and then Mukuro was on the ground. Hayato looked up at him wide eyed.

"Wh-what did you do?" Hayato asked, his voice quivering.

"That eye... it's abominable. It disgusts me," Yamamoto sneered. He tossed what looked like a pen knife across the classroom.

"Kufufufu... You really think this is the way to win his heart? You really think your tainted love will save you?!" Mukuro rose to his feet, covering his right eye. Hayato could see blood streaming down his face.

"You want to talk about being pure?! You helped cover up my mother's murder! Does Hayato know _that_?"

Hayato stilled. He did know. He knew everything. What he read in those files had repeated history and it was deja vu all over again.

The police report stated that police arrived at the Yamamoto residence to find four dead bodies and a survivor. The survivor was Yamamoto himself, just nineteen years old. Out of the victims, Yamamoto's mother was one of them. She had been decapitated, murdered in cold blood. The other three were men from the yakuza gang, the _Hakai Dira._ Yamamoto had murdered them in the same fashion they had their mother.

And in the same fashion he had murdered the rest of the men that were involved with the murder of his mother. It all made sense now. Everything that Hayato had tried to suppress, had tried to reason with had gone out the window the second he saw the cold eyes of the man he thought he loved, standing over the headless bodies of the remaining _Hakai_.

"I... I know," Hayato admitted.

Yamamoto looked down at him in disbelief, his hand still wrapped tightly around Hayato's wrist. "And yet you still-!"

Hayato shoved Yamamoto away. "Don't you dare! You're a fucking murderer! You lied to me! Everything that came out of that foul mouth of yours was a fucking lie!"

He aimed his gun at Yamamoto's head once again, this time his hand was steady. "It was you, wasn't it? That killed the thug that shot me. It was you, wasn't it?!" he shouted, his voice high and shrill.

Yamamoto frowned. "Yes, it was me. But I... I did it for you."

Mukuro snorted. "You did it for _revenge_."

Hayato's finger twitched on the trigger. "Don't you fucking say that, you bastard!" he yelled. "Don't you put that shit on me!"

"Let's go somewhere and talk this out. Without _him_," Yamamoto nodded towards Mukuro, who still held his gloved hand over his injured eye.

"I'm not going _anywhere _alone with you, you crazy bastard!"

"Kufufu. I wouldn't let you take him out of my sight. Do you think I'll give up so easily? You're not fit-"

"You aren't any better!" shouted Hayato. "You knew, didn't you?! You knew all along that it was him!"

Mukuro smirked. "I did. I tried to tell you, Luciano. I tried to tell you he was bad for you, but you didn't listen. I had to let you find out the hard way."

"You're the reason he's like this!" shrieked Hayato.

"Kahahaha! Oh no, Luciano. The crazy was already there!"

"This is all because of you! You covered it up and my mother didn't get any justice!" yelled Yamamoto.

"You didn't need to kill them!" Hayato screamed at Yamamoto. "You didn't have to do that!"

Yamamoto took a few steps towards Hayato, ignoring the heated steel pointed at his head and the extremely irate Hayato, which only makes Hayato want to shoot him even more. "Please, just let me tell you everything, from the beginning. Then if you want to take me to jail, then I'll let you."

Hayato was furious, he was seeing nothing but a red film pulled down over his eyes and every thought in his mind, every synapse sent out the same message. _Put a bullet through this bastard. Put a bullet through his fucking head and end yours and his misery._

"_I__f I want to_? Oh you better believe your fucking psycho ass _is _going to jail for a very long time!"

Yamamoto frowned and stretched out an arm, reaching for Hayato's gun. Hayato tightened his grip and growled. "Don't you fucking move, you bastard. So help me god, I will fucking kill you."

Yamamoto withdrew his hand and something in him changed. His face softened, his eyes became clear and Hayato could see _his_ Yamamoto once again. He looked defeated and desperate. "I... I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt Hayato like this. I... I didn't know I'd love Hayato so much."

Hayato's heart was telling him to stop and listen, to reel Yamamoto in and hold him, soothe him for whatever the reason was he turned out to be like this. Hayato knew this world too well, knew _crazy _too well. But at the same time, he felt betrayed, he felt stupid. _So stupid. _He had been duped, been made a complete and utter fool of. This man had managed to pull the wool over his eyes and Hayato felt so disgusted with himself for believing him. For _loving _him.

"You... you used me didn't you?" he asked, voice trembling.

Yamamoto's eyes widened a little and he took another cautionary step forward. "What? No way! I-"

"Oya... of course he did, Luciano." Mukuro lowered his hand and Hayato could see a gash underneath his right eye, made by the pen knife Yamamoto had used to cut him.

"I don't believe you!" Hayato's hands were visibly shaking and he desperately willed them to stop, he couldn't show Yamamoto how he felt but he couldn't stop the words coming out of his mouth. This man made him weak, _so_ _weak _and he hated it.

"He preyed on your weakness, Luciano. He knew-"

"Shut up, Mukuro! I need a fucking minute to think without your two fucking cents coming from the peanut gallery over there!" Hayato snapped. He turned and focused his attention on Yamamoto once more.

"From the very beginning, this was your plan, wasn't it?! Play this sweet, innocent little virgin to get me into bed. Be this funny and stupid idiot and you made me meet your _father_ and for what? To get me _hooked _on you so that what - you could have a cop in your pocket when the time came? That I would grant you immunity because I was _fucking _you? How dare you fuck with me, Takeshi. How _dare_ you fuck with my feelings and just _use _me like that, you bastard!"

Yamamoto's eyes were wide and doleful instead of the cold and merciless eyes Hayato had seen just moments before. His mouth opened in surprise and once again held his hands up in defense, like that was supposed to be of some comfort to Hayato.

"It's not like that!" he protested. "I love Gokudera!"

"Kufufufu, oh please. Luciano, everything he says has been a lie. You don't actually believe him, do you?"

Thunder and lightning cracked over head and the rain began to fall again in through the gaping hole in the school roof. The wind howled through the shattered windows. The storm outside was raging, just like the one Hayato felt inside him.

Hayato grit his teeth and clenched his fist, the other hand gripping the gun so hard it made his hand hurt. "_Love?_ _Love?! _How dare you even throw that kind of word out here in the open like that, to be fallen on the deaf ears of dead men. Men that _you _killed! Don't fucking confess your sickening love for me in this kind of situation, you bastard!"

"Hayato, please -"

"Enough! Enough familiarity with you! Don't address me like that again, I... I don't even _know_ you anymore. Fuck, I never knew you in the first place," he muttered to himself, sounding crushed and defeated.

"Let's wrap this up, Luciano. Do you want me-"

"Don't touch him!" Hayato said abruptly, eyes hooded. "_I_ will deal with him."

Mukuro chuckled. "As you wish, Luciano."

Thunder clapped and a bright streak of lightning filled the sky. They all snapped their heads when they heard the loud crack and split of a large tree outside. There was a sudden crash and the building shook.

"Oh... A tree has fallen in through the school," Mukuro observed. "We should stop wasting time on this and arrest him already, Luciano."

"I said for you to stop calling me that! My name is Gokudera Hayato! I'm a detective for the Namimori Police Department! I'm not Luciano of the Cappa Famiglia, I'm not _your _Hayato; lover of a serial killer. I'm nothing to either of you, just like neither of you mean anything to me!"

Yamamoto looked genuinely hurt, more upset about the declaration from Hayato than the fact that he's just taken a man's life and is facing a lifetime in prison for his actions. "I... I'm sorry you feel that way, but I truly love Gokudera. I have from the moment I saw you, even before then."

Mukuro scoffed. "This again? Do you think we really have the time for your pathetic confession of unrequited love?"

"_'It's not like that, I like Gokudera'_, that's what you said, wasn't it? The first time we were together? You picked me out, made me your target and fuck..." Hayato couldn't control the things he was saying, his mouth kept running and his heart was aching. It was sore and throbbing against his chest, which felt like there was a thousand pound weight on top of it and he couldn't breathe anymore. The lump in his throat was back, sharp like a jagged rock and he couldn't force it down this time. He felt wetness on his cheeks and fuck, he was crying in front of this asshole and the pineapple bastard who's fucked with him just as much.

"Both of you played me in your fucked up little games. I... I fucking hate the both of you!"

Yamamoto choked. "Ha-Hayato, don't cry." He cautiously stepped towards Hayato once more.

"Don't move! Just... don't move," said Hayato, trying to regain some composure and pride.

Mukuro let out a frustrated sigh. "Luciano, if you can't do this, I will. This is taking far too long to deal with." He began to walk towards Yamamoto once again and Hayato swung his arm to his left and blindly squeezed off one round from his AutoMag. The gunshot boomed throughout the room and resounded off the walls. Mukuro cried out and Hayato saw out of the corner of his eye that he grabbed for his left shoulder as he jerked backwards.

"Don't you move either, you fucking bastard! The both of you are-"

Before Hayato could finish his sentence, the building shook again, this time with a loud rumble and the three men swayed on their feet. Dust and debris began to fall from the ceiling. A large chunk of the roof broke off and crashed near Yamamoto's feet.

"Hayato, it's not safe! We have to leave here!"

"Kahahaha! Luciano, you shot me. You shot _me_!" Mukuro shouted meniacally.

There was an ear-splitting cracking sound and Hayato turned to see a deep fissure run through the wall and into the tile floor, separating him from Yamamoto and running underneath Mukuro.

"Mukuro, look out!" Hayato shouted but it was too late. With a creak and groan and then a thunderous ripping sound, the floor caved in and swallowed Mukuro into the darkness of the floors below. Hayato dropped his gun and scurried over to the hollow crater in the floor.

"Mukuro!" he shouted into the hole but he got no response. He couldn't see anything underneath the cloud of dust that worked it's way up to the floor above. Hayato couldn't even tell if Mukuro had landed in the classroom beneath them or if he had fallen through both floors.

"He... he didn't even shout," Hayato murmured in shock.

"Hayato! Move from there before you fall in too!" Yamamoto rushed over to the other side of the aperture.

"Don't come any closer, it won't hold your weight!" Hayato shouted as the building swayed again. In the distance he heard the thunder clap and another piece of the building crumble to the ground. The floor beneath him quaked and quivered and he nearly lost his footing.

Yamamoto shouted and scrambled over to the other side. He grabbed Hayato by his jacket and yanked him away from the hole that Mukuro fell through. "We have to get out of here, the building is going to collapse!"

"But Mukuro-!"

"He's dead! He's already dead! There's no way he would have survived that fall! We have to go now!"

"No! No, I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Yamamoto wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head. Hayato lost whatever little resolve he had left and he faltered, crumbling into Yamamoto's arms and sinking to his knees. Yamamoto stroked his hair as tremors shuddered through the floor.

"I hate you," he cried through sobs. "I fucking hate you!" But there was no venom in his tone, only sorrow. Yamamoto held him tighter and Hayato grasped the lapels of his suit jacket, clutching them in a white knuckle grip. He heard the building groan but he couldn't move. For all the sin that had been committed in this room, for all the sin that he and Yamamoto had committed in their lives to this point, they should be demolished along with this lonely building.

"Why," he cried angrily. "Why did it have to be you?"

Yamamoto pressed a long kiss to the top of his head. "Hayato..."

Cold drops of rain splashed their faces as a sudden downpour fell. Thunder crashed overhead and the blood pooling underneath the dismembered bodies began to bleed out into the cracks through the floor. Hayato looked up and searched Yamamoto's eyes for the bright and exuberant man he had met months ago. Yamamoto's hazel eyes weren't dark or dishonest, they didn't show a delusion that Hayato thought he had been living in; the delusion of who this man was and how he felt about him. They were warm and inviting, much like his arms and Hayato found himself mesmerized by them, just like he always had been.

"Kiss me," Yamamoto whispered, brushing the matted hair off Hayato's face and cupping his cheek. He stroked his thumb softly along his cheek bone and guided Hayato's face towards his. Hayato was pliant and captivated, allowing himself to be moved. Yamamoto brushed his lips against his hesitantly and waited. The rain had soaked through their clothes and Hayato was so cold but the warmth of this embrace filled him. It made him feel crestfallen; such a moment as this one right here, so pure and affectionate should not be in competition with such a grisly and macabre scene.

And without much thought and one swift motion, Hayato wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's neck and pressed his lips desperately against Yamamoto's. He kissed him hungrily, fervently but not in a need for lust. He wanted Yamamoto to read everything he felt and couldn't say. He wanted Yamamoto to know that he loved him because he couldn't say it, not now.

Yamamoto broke away, resting his forehead against Hayato's, raindrops sliding down the bridge of his nose and whispered, "Hayato, I didn't want to hurt you."

Hayato began to hear a buzzing in his ears, high and shrill and his vision began to blur again. He felt dizzy and knew it must have something to do with the fact that he had hit his head twice now. He could feel the blood trickling down the back of his neck now that most of the adrenaline had worn off. But being so stressed out had raised his blood pressure and he was losing consciousness again. He tried to fight it because he needed to get out of here before the entire condemned school caved in on them.

He could faintly hear Yamamoto's voice calling his name but he couldn't speak. He did, but his words slurred into something incoherent. He could see more of the ceiling collapsing and he tried to warn Yamamoto but the darkness kept pulling him down and he couldn't remain alert. He felt himself be tossed and jerked around and he tried to protest, he tried to wake up but he kept falling. Falling into the depths of the abyss to join Rokudo Mukuro.

* * *

**Author's Note**** :**

I know I told a lot of you this would be the last chapter but I needed to split it up. It'd be too much to take into one chapter so the next chapter will be the Epilogue. This has been an amazing journey, this fic has taken on a mind of its own and when I first began this I never expected it to go in the direction it went in. I'm pleased with it, it's definitely different. I've never read such a complicated A/U. For those of you who have stuck by me this entire fic and inspired me, helped me and promoted the fic, took your time to review it, thank you. Thank you SO MUCH because it's the followers that have kept me writing. I probably given up a long time ago.

SPECIAL, SPECIAL THANKS TO:

Red (waifu), who helped me with a lot of my chapters. She's the second half of my brain, my beta reader, my everything! xo

Haya-chan (Bunny-chan), who helped me with my Mukuro muse, she's like Mukuro incarnate when she's in her muse mode! She helped me with a lot of Mukuro scenes xo

Nico (daughter), she read all my 6959 smut and inspired me on the BDSM chapter. Yay Nico! xo

Adara ('DaraNeko!), she has been my partner in crime. She knows my writer feels and we work to inspire each other because she understands the grueling process it takes to put together such a complicated fic. She's a brilliant 8059 writer, so check her out! (AdaraLove) Don't worry Adara, we'll work hard and Breaking Through to You will keep on getting easier! You're doing an amazing job! xo

Lo-chan! She's been my Italian translator throughout the whole fic. All the Italian Hayato speaks is courtesy of her! Bianchi and Hayato's namesake is dedicated to her, as the slight 0027 mention. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to write in more than that, but don't worry I will write you a 0027 fic one of these days, I promise! xo

Bernie, she reads everything first. She's always down for spoilers and an angst fest - aka death fic xD . Thanks for being there! xo

Sakura, she's my DMMD partner in crime. We're going to work on that Aoba harem. I'm so stoked for it!

Yuni, who keeps harassing me for new chapters! Don't worry, I promise I'll get to The Future is All I See! Seriously, I'm going to get serious about finishing that. XD

Otakugrl! She is my stalker from Wattpad! You're awesome, I love your reviews, and you've disappeared but come back! This fic is better than your anime spree! XD I just can't compete with Naruto xD

Everyone else, I love your reviews, I love your support and I'm really, really happy to have all of you in my internet life! Thank you all for being a part of this with me! xo

\- Ruby Takeyato aka Ruby Fiamma


	24. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XXIV

_I'll follow you into the dark_

_No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white_

_Just our hands clasped so tight_

_Waiting for the hint of a spark_

**I Will Follow You Into The Dark **

_**\- **Deathcab for Cutie_

* * *

**_Chapter XXIV_**

* * *

Hayato awoke to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight streaming in, warm against his skin. The feel of cheap and unfamiliar sheets chafed against his naked body when he moved.

Comically, he wondered why all this dreams as of late started out like this.

But when he felt the searing pain in his head and the feverish heat flushing his entire body, he knew he wasn't dreaming. He groaned and tried to sit up but when he did, his vision swam and he saw black and red and green dots flash in front of his eyes.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"H-Hayato?"

Hayato stiffened as the smooth and baritone voice he loved so much entered his ears. He hadn't had the chance to look fully around the room he was in and hadn't noticed Yamamoto was there with him. They were in some kind of motel room, one that Hayato didn't recognize. It was cheap and low profile and he obviously knew why. Yamamoto was a fugitive... and Hayato was his accomplice.

Yamamoto was suddenly on the bed, in a gray t-shirt and gray sweat pants, tousled hair and his glasses. He looked tired and worn. His eyes were red and glossy, with dark circles under them and a small stubble had began to form on his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

Days? Just how long had he been out for?

"Yama... H-How? How did we get here?" The last thing Hayato remembered was Kokuyo Hugh caving in on them and him passing out because of his head injury.

"Ah! I'm so glad!" Yamamoto exclaimed, throwing his arms around Hayato and pressing him into his chest. He froze with the contact, even recoiled a little. Yamamoto didn't seem to notice though.

Hayato could smell that invigorating scent again, the one that sways took him to another life far less complicated than this life. The scent that made him think only good things of Yamamoto.

"I'm so glad," he said through a sob, pulling back.

"W-why?" asked Hayato.

"Because... because I didn't know what was going to happen. I thought you might die and I didn't know what to do!" Yamamoto cried, wiping tears off his cheeks that had begun to fall.

"What... what happened?"

"Do you... do you remember anything?"

Hayato drew in a breath. Yamamoto looked so vulnerable right now.

"Yeah... I do."

"Oh," Yamamoto whispered dejectedly. "Hayato... I'm really sorry."

Hayato lay back down on the fluffed pillows behind him and closed his eyes. "I... I don't know what to say to you, Yamamoto. You're... you're a murderer. You knew... you knew _everything _and yet you made me continue looking so... so _foolish._"

"Gokudera, I really am sorry! I... I didn't want this!"

Hayato sighed and covered his face with his arm. His skin was searing to the touch. "How can you say premeditated murder wasn't something that you wanted? You planned all of this out, just like a real killer would," he said with disgust.

He felt Yamamoto's fingertips brush his arm and he flinched instinctively. He hadn't really meant to, but it couldn't be helped. This man was a stranger to him.

Yamamoto made some sort of strangled gasp. "A-ah... I see. You're...you're really afraid of me, aren't you?"

Hayato removed his arm from his faca and shot Yamamoto a steely glare. The audacity of this bastard to accuse him of being afraid... the only thing he was afraid of were his feelings getting in the way of making the right decision here. The _moral_ decision.

"Che! As if, you bastard! Do _you _remember everything? Like how you _killed _people?! Have you forgotten all the _lies_ you've told me?! How you just played me like some kind of fucking puppet?"

Yamamoto's eyes widened behind his thick frames. "Go-Gokudera, wait! You've got it all wrong!"

"How?! How am I wrong? You've lied so much that you can't help it now! Are you a compulsive liar now? Pathological?! Every-"

"Gokudera, please!" Yamamoto seized Hayato's hands in his. "Please let me explain everything!"

Hayato wanted answers, he was curious but he also _deserved_ answers. And he guessed... he guessed that he could give Yamamoto the opportunity to explain his actions.

Hayato continued to glare at him and Yamamoto continued to look desperate. He didn't move out of Yamamoto's grasp but Yamamoto let him go anyways once Hayato had calmed down. Despite his feverish flesh, the absence of Yamamoto's left a cold shock.

Yamamoto sat back on his heels and put his head in his hands. He sighed frustratingly. "Ugh... where do I even start?"

Hayato propped himself up on the pillows and eyed Yamamoto cautiously. "At the beginning," he offered quietly.

Yamamoto looked at Hayato and frowned. "The... the beginning huh? I uh... are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yamamoto... I know. I already know about your mother's murder. How... how did it end up like this?"

Yamamoto sighed again. "Okay... okay, I'll tell you everything."

"Well get on with, idiot. We're not exactly in a position where we've got all the time in the world."

The ends of Yamamoto's mouth inched into a somber smile. "You're right..."

There was a pregnant silence for a moment until Yamamoto spoke.

"It... it all started when I was nineteen. It was in the winter, near Christmas and... and my mother was out doing some Christmas shopping. She uh... she was in a store, late at night, just as they were about to close up shop; in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some yakuza gang was shaking down the owner of the shop for the rent or something. My mother, she hid away because she didn't want to get involved. She thought it was cowardly but... I never thought that." Yamamoto frowned and Hayato could see tears brimming in his tired eyes.

"An officer came into the store as that guy, Tomakazu, killed the shop owner. I guess he panicked and he shot the officer too. They left right after that and my mother tried to keep the officer alive but he... died."

"I've... I've never heard about an officer being killed by -"

Yamamoto frowned. "Hayato... let me finish. You wanted to hear everything, right?"

Hayato couldn't stop the pout that formed and he remained silent, allowing Yamamoto to continue.

"My mother was the only witness to the crime and they hadn't even known she was there. My father talked her into testifying. Said she could redeem herself that way." Yamamoto's face darkened and he angrily wiped the tears off his cheeks. "He... he always had that stupid sense of morality."

Hayato wanted to reach out and comfort him but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The more he thought about Yamamoto's twisted sense of justice the more he couldn't help but put him in the same category he viewed Mukuro in. To think of Yamamoto like that left a bad taste in his mouth.

"She was due to testify in court two weeks before New Years. Every Tuesday night my father would close the restaurant early and we'd make sushi together, the whole family. Then we'd watch movies and hang out... just us. On... on this Tuesday night, my father had ran out of certain ingredients and needed to into town for them and I was coming back later than usual from a friend's house. When I got home..."

_His mother died on a Tuesday... _

_Tuesday nights his father locks up shop early and volunteers at a local vetrinary hospital._

_Etorphine is only obtainable at a vetrinary hospital._

All the clues were right there under Hayato's nose the whole time. He had just been too blinded by Yamamoto to see any of them. If he had only separated him from getting involved with Yamamoto romantically he would have seen it all. The times he disappeared and the times he was in places he shouldn't have been. The etorphine, the fact that Yamamoto was skilled in kendo, his glasses being left at one of the scenes. The fact that he had become a factual news reporter was also probably because he needed to get closer to the case. It made Hayato so angry to think he had been so stupid not to see it, so stupid to not stop any of it before it had gotten to this point. He opened his mouth to tell Yamamoto he didn't want to hear anymore, he had heard enough but when he caught a glimpse of his face, Hayato closed his mouth into a frown.

Yamamoto's tears had started to fall harder and he choked. He tried to compose himself but his sobs turned into hysterical hiccups and Hayato thought if there was a time he should comfort Yamamoto, now would be the time. He reached out a hesitant hand and just as he was about to pull Yamamoto into an embrace he remembered. He remembered when he was at his most vulnerable, when his world was crashing down around him along with the walls of Kokuyo High, there was no one to comfort him. There was no one there to make him feel warm and safe, no one there to tell him that everything would be okay.

He drew his arm back bitterly and averted his eyes from the scene in front of him that ripped his heart out in so many different ways.

"I... I came home... to see... and saw her. I saw her... _head_ in his hands!" cried Yamamoto. "There was blood all over everything and she was _dead!_ I... I think I blacked out, I think... I snapped and the next thing I remember is the police. My father's sword and the head of the man who killed my mother in my hands."

Hayato looked at him then, his heart heavy and hollow. Yamamoto was staring down at his hands and Hayato can just imagine the visual that's running through his mind right now. His own description of events paints a grisly picture that overtakes his mind, overtakes his emotions and his stomach churns. Yamamoto has had to live with this memory for a very long time, it isn't a wonder how he's turned out like this. He was baptised in blood that night, his mother's and those men and the sin he committed wasn't about to go unpunished. He's had to live with this guilt, with _all _of this for such a long time and yet he still tries to smile through it all.

Hayato thinks he's about to falter when he remembers that yes, he has smiled through it all but... but that's just his game face isn't it? That's just the act he puts on to fool everyone and he's _good at it_. Yamamoto isn't stupid at all, now that Hayato thinks about it. He's a cold and calculated killer and he is _so good _at pulling the wool over everyone's eyes. He is brilliant. He would have gotten away with it if Mukuro hadn't interfered. And then he has to wonder... would it have stopped at the men who planned his mother's murder? Or would he have continued, having developed some sick sense of justice, being Namimori's righteous vigilante?

_He's your saint and you're his saviour..._

Hayato shook his head. Yamamoto isn't anyone's saint and he isn't anyone's saviour. They are one in the same. Liars and murderers with a corrupt sense of justice and an even more corrupt past. The only difference was Hayato gave up on his quest for revenge when he realized that he was on the path to a self destruction he'd never be able to come back from.

He made the choice to change his life, why hadn't Yamamoto done the same?

"What... what happened next?" Hayato asked surreptitiously.

Yamamoto snapped his head up and clarity cleared the fog in his eyes. He sniffed and wiped the tears from his cheeks with the heel of his hand.

"Ah... I uh, remember... I remember looking down and seeing the head in my hands and I freaked out. I realized that I... I had murdered them and that I... was no better than they were."

Yamamoto shifted on the bed and took his glasses off, rubbing his tired face in his hands. He looked over at Hayato and frowned. "After that... I just lost it. I... I had to be given some kind of medication because I couldn't calm down. When I woke up I remember feeling calm again but... but I wanted nothing more than to make those men pay for what they did to my mom," he spat out venomously.

"You should -"

"I know," Yamamoto cut in. "I know I should have let the police handle it but... but it never happened." He looked at Hayato once again with such a sorrowful expression that it literally crushed Hayato's heart. Yamamoto rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "That year I quit baseball and dropped out of college, even though I was on a baseball scholarship. I wasn't able to keep my head in the game anymore.

"I... I joined the Gazette in hopes to get information on Tomakazu and I started working at my dad's restaurant and teaching the kendo classes. I needed to keep a low profile so I took up writing for the sports column but I used my spare time to research. Something wasn't right there, why was my mother's murder covered up? I was given immunity against the m-murders I committed in exchange for my silence and I agreed but on the inside I was outraged. Even with all that distraction, I couldn't keep it away."

Hayato cocked his head to the side and looked at Yamamoto quizzically. "Keep what away?"

Yamamoto looked down at the bed again, avoiding eye contact with Hayato.

_That is a sign of shame_, he noted.

"The... the darkness inside me."

Hayato's eyes widened a little. He was caught back by the fact that Yamamoto had originally _tried_ to occupy himself with other things. Hayato was beginning to understand a little more.

"But... but it wouldn't stay away and I felt like it was suffocating me. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop thinking about those men and what they did to my mom." Yamamoto's voice quivered and his lip trembled.

Hayato knew that feeling all too well, didn't he? His explosive rage after he found out his father had ordered a hit that killed his mother had nearly gotten him killed on several occasions. During that time everything was red and black. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. At that time, all Hayato wanted was to kill his father and take down the mafia for their stupid rules and he didn't care that he wouldn't make it out alive. As long as he was able to murder the one person that had taken away the only person that loved him unconditionally, he could die happy, even if that meant his soul would be bound in Hell for all eternity.

Hayato sat up and pushed his back up against the cheap wooden headboard and pulled his knees up to his chest. The throbbing in his head was back with a vengeance and the hot flashes he was having were threatening to make him break a sweat. He didn't want to pass out again, he didn't want Yamamoto to stop talking. He had to know _everything _because... because as ashamed as it made him feel to think this way, what Yamamoto had to say about everything that's transpired to this point will have everything to do with Hayato's decision. It wasn't like he was in a position to do much else at the moment.

"How did you figure it out?" Hayato asked.

"I didn't know at first that Mukuro or Iemitsu-san had anything to do with the cover up. I just... I just didn't understand all of it. And Miura-san was very friendly and she helped me fit in, showed me everything I needed to know and I... I felt guilty for having a hidden agenda. She was so nice to me-"

Hayato scowled sourly and looked away. He drowned out the remainder of Yamamoto's sentence. He didn't need to hear how he felt guilty for fooling that stupid woman but felt nothing for lying to _him._ Hadn't he been nice? Hadn't he gone far and beyond everything he had built around him to keep himself safe just for Yamamoto? And all he got in return was a knife in the back... right through to his heart.

"I don't need to know about how great that fucking wench is. She nearly got you killed_._ Or was that another one of your schemes?" snapped Hayato.

Yamamoto's eyes widened again and he threw his hands up in protest. "No! No, I didn't -"

"And what, you sought revenge on Sawada-san too, didn't you?"

"No! I wouldn't do that, it wasn't his fault! I -"

"Well, he's as guilty as Mukuro, no?" Hayato asked. He was shaking down his witness, driving question after question because sometimes the pressure of such rapid fire made them crack. He was provoking Yamamoto and trying really hard to keep his anger to a minimum. He didn't need to get his blood pressure up again and risk passing out.

"What? No! He's Tsuna's father, I would never do anything to him-"

"Why?"

"What?"

"I asked you why. Why wouldn't you kill Sawada Iemitsu? He's part of the cover up. You've killed the men responsible and if you had it your way, you would have killed Mukuro too. I've already figured out that you've met behind my back. Talking like I'm a fucking possession. Why wouldn't you kill Sawada-san?"

When Yamamoto didn't respond, Hayato fought the urge to hit him. He was looking all doleful and saddened and he had _no right _to feel this way, not after what he had done. Not after what he had done to Hayato.

"So what was your fucking angle, hm? You were planning on getting close to me to get close to the Tenth so you could get your revenge on his father?!"

Yamamoto was wide eyed and looked really upset. "No, no it isn't like that at all!"

"So then what's the fucking reason, Yamamoto?"

Yamamoto averted his eyes and drew back, moving himself further down the bed.

_He's recoiling, even if it's slight. He has something to say that he knows is going to get an unsavory reaction out of me._

"Because... because I like Tsuna and I didn't want to hurt him like that," Yamamoto admitted quietly.

Even though it was for the Tenth, it still enraged Hayato. His stomach was like a cauldron and the acid bubbled up into his throat and he nearly thew up. His blood boiled and made his skin feel even hotter and his eyes felt like they would melt in their sockets. He didn't want to get mad but he did, he couldn't stand the thought of Yamamoto being considerate to everyone's feelings except for his.

"So I was just a fucking pawn, huh. You fucking bastard. I can't believe I was so _stupid_ that I didn't see right through all your fucking _lie_s. That's it, right, Yamamoto? Now that you're had your revenge, now what? You expect me to _save _you from rotting in jail like those bastards should have? You expect me to pat you on the back and just what, _forgive _you?"

Yamamoto inched closer to Hayato but stopped when Hayato began shouting.

"Stop! Don't come any closer! You keep fucking with my head and I don't like it! I never -"

"Gokudera..."

"I never wanted any of this! It was you-"

"Gokudera -"

"It was you that wanted _me _to love you, _me _to be faithful and honest but yet you were lying to my face! You saw! You saw all the shit I had to go-"

"Gokudera, would you just-"

"No! I won't just listen to your sorry excuse for an apology! Nothing you say can make this any better!"

Yamamoto recoiled and frowned.

"You saw all the fucking bullshit I had to go through because of this case, because of _you_ and not once did you tell me! The truth of the matter is you fucking used me, you bastard!"

"I didn't use you, Gokudera! I didn't know! I didn't know I would -"

A low, rumbling growl escaped Hayato's throat and he narrowed his eyes. He could feel himself getting overheated but he couldn't stop. The anger, the hurt, the _betrayal_ was just so overwhelming. Hayato felt like he was drowning in these emotions.

"Don't you fucking dare tell me you didn't know. You picked me out from the very beginning. Everything makes sense now, Yamamoto. Everything. Your aggressiveness at the bar, you came on to _me._ You kept coming around even though I was an asshole to you. You pretended to get jealous so that you could keep tabs on me and know what I was doing all the time. You made it look like you were jealous of Mukuro but really, you didn't want me getting close to him because you were afraid I'd find out your secret -"

"You're wro-"

"Shut up and let me finish!" Hayato cried, his body beginning to shake. Yamamoto frowned deeply and continued looking defeated.

"You even took it so far as to cuff me and break me so what... So you could just do whatever you wanted with me afterwards, right? So that I'd be at your mercy. That was the plan, wasn't it?"

"No, it wasn't. I've always admired Gokudera and when I saw you -"

"Don't give me that same fucking story you fed me at your dad's place. You're not even into guys, you're not even into-"

"No, maybe I'm not but I'm into you! When I saw Gokudera, I really did fall in love! I wanted to get close to you so that I could _know _you, not use you. I wanted to be with you all the time and it _does _make me jealous when you're around other guys. But it's because I _love _Gokudera. I've never once had an ulterior motive other than wanting to be with you."

"You're so full of shit. I can't believe a word that comes out of your mouth. You're trying so desperately now because I know everything and you don't want to go to jail, isn't that right, Yamamoto? What will happen if I don't fall for your lies and tell you I'm arresting you? Are you going to kill me like you killed Ikeda Nosaru?"

Yamamoto's eyes blew open. "How... How did you-? "

"My contact told me he wasn't the one that was involved. You killed an innocent man, Yamamoto. You're not a saint, you're not seeking revenge. You're just a killer who will stop at nothing to get his own way."

Yamamoto's eyes began to water. "Go-Gokudera... I... didn't mean to kill him."

"Aw, don't give me that fucking bullshit! You killed an innocent man, you wanted him to pay for the sin of his brother, didn't you?!"

Yamamoto looked away angrily. "I know! It was a mistake! But by then it was already too late! It doesn't matter, he would have gone on to worse things eventually! If anything, I saved him."

Hayato stilled. "You what?"

"I saved him! Saved him from making the same mistake his brother did."

Hayato grabbed at the roots of his hair. His head hurt so much.

"You don't get to make that decision! You're not a fucking god, Yamamoto!"

"Oh please! Stop talking down to me like you're so innocent! If you could have killed your father, if it was easier for you to get to him, you would have, wouldn't you! So don't act as if you wouldn't have done the same!"

"The difference is that I didn't, even when I wanted to!"

Yamamoto glared at him. "Are you telling me you've never killed anyone?"

"Of course I've killed people, I'm a fucking cop!"

"You know that's not what I meant! You told me you were from the mafia. You told me you had a dark past. You thought I would leave you if I knew. You have, haven't you?"

Hayato didn't think this side of Yamamoto was very cute at all. If he hadn't been feeling like he was constantly on the brink of passing out, he would have beaten the shit out of Yamamoto right here and now and then taken him to jail. He hated this arrogant side to Yamamoto, this stubborn and stupid and unreasonable side.

"Che. That isn't the point."

"How is it any different? We've both done really bad things, Gokudera but... But that's over now. When you're ready to take me in, I'll go. I... don't want to hurt you anymore," Yamamoto said sadly.

"You've hurt me enough," Hayato shot back. "You've used me and played me and I don't believe you'll just go so voluntarily -"

"Gokudera -"

"You've kidnapped me and locked me in some unknown hotel room -"

"Gokudera-"

"Probably so you could kill me here -"

"Hayato!"

Hayato snapped his neck to face Yamamoto. "Didn't I tell you not to call me that anymore?"

"Just shut up and listen to me for a second -"

"I don't want to, I've heard enough of your bullshit. It's making me sick-"

"Well you're going to do it!" roared Yamamoto. It startled Hayato and for a minute, he was silent.

"I would never... _never _do anything to intentionally hurt Gokudera. Yes, I lied and I'm sorry but... it has nothing to do with tricking you. My mother... my mother was an innocent bystander in all of this. She knew about things she shouldn't have and she died because of it. I didn't want anything to happen to you because of me, because of what I did. I wanted to protect you, Hayato. I don't want to lose you the same way I lost my mother."

Hayato's heart fluttered against his rib cage. He stared at Yamamoto wide eyed while air became trapped in his lungs.

It's true that they're the same. They both lost their mothers, who were just innocent civilians, to the mafia. Hayato understood Yamamoto's quest for revenge, he wanted his own and a part of him still wanted it. Could Hayato say that he was any different than Yamamoto?

Yes. He could.

He wasn't good. He tried to repent by being a good cop, by devoting his life to serve the Tenth, but when it came down to it, he had wished death on all the members of the yakuza. He wished death on all the criminals that took advantage of the justice system and slipped through the cracks and Hayato wished death on the people who helped them. The difference was Yamamoto had the balls to actually follow through.

Hayato didn't believe that it was a good thing, killing was wrong but he had been in Yamamoto's shoes before he had met Tsuna. It was Tsuna who had showed him a different way to live, a different way to handle things. If he hadn't met Tsuna, he would have been the same. He might have joined the yakuza, he might have been one of the men that Yamamoto targeted.

Hayato shuddered at the thought.

But Hayato didn't want to believe what Yamamoto was saying. He didn't need to be protected, that was just an excuse to cover up the fact that he had lied. Even when he asked Yamamoto straight out if he had been in Sakura Town the night of the most recent murder, he had lied. He was always disappearing, alway showing up places unannounced. He threatened Mukuro behind his back and killed a man that tried to hurt him.

If he looked at it that way, maybe Yamamoto _was _trying to protect him. Yamamoto had just wanted to protect his mother but he was too late, instead he protected her honor and made sure her unnecessary death was avenged. Hayato would have done the same if that were his mother. He barely knew who she was, but he remembered every moment spent with her, every piece of advice she had ever given to him and what he remembered most. of all was her smile. Her memory was sacred and he'd do anything to protect it, just like Yamamoto had.

Now that he thinks about it, Yamamoto's smile kind of reminds Hayato of his mother's smile. He could only imagine how she had felt having to watch another woman raise her child. She knew things and she had to have been unhappy but when she was with him, she was always smiling.

Yamamoto was the same. Hayato had no idea that he harboured all this pain and guilt. He had an idea when Tsuyoshi had told him but he had no idea why, not really. And now that he knows everything, he can remember all the times Yamamoto smiled around him. When they weren't arguing, Yamamoto was happy. _Genuinely _happy. No one could fake that kind of happiness, not when they hadn't experienced true happiness in such a long time. Hayato should know, because Yamamoto made him happy and he hadn't felt such real elation since his mother was alive.

And for Yamamoto to hold Hayato in the same regard as his mother, to want to shield him the way he couldn't shield her made Hayato realize that Yamamoto really was being honest. Yamamoto could have gotten away with the murders, he didn't need Hayato to protect him, to get him off if he was caught. He just wanted to love someone and Hayato felt the same.

Yamamoto's hand rested on his cheek and Hayato didn't shy away from it this time. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't form any words. It didn't help that there was a steady pounding against his skull and his eyes burned so much it near brought him to tears. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know what he _wanted _to say. He was torn between doing the right thing and the wrong thing, between his head and his heart.

But ultimately, he's a man of the law. A logical man who knows that even if he wanted to be with Yamamoto he couldn't. He couldn't be with him knowing what he had done, covering up all these murders. Hayato would then be no better than Mukuro or the other corrupt members of the law or even the yakuza.

He leaned into Yamamoto's hand, just a little and relished the warmth of this man one last time before he made that decision. He loved Yamamoto but it wasn't right. They had no future together.

Hayato let out a disheartening sigh and moved Yamamoto's hand off his cheek. "I... I don't think I can't do this... anymore."

Yamamoto gulped audibly. "Do... do what anymore, Gokudera?"

Hayato shifted under the blankets, he wanted to get up and leave but his body was weak and sore and his head was still foggy. He looked away and sighed. "Us... I can't... I can't be with you and you know that. You have to atone for your crimes, Yamamoto. We don't have a future."

Yamamoto crawled over to Hayato and took his face in his hands, forcing him to look Yamamoto in the eyes. "I know what you're saying is right but... Hayato, let's get out of here. I want to be with you, _please.__"_

Yamamoto's plea made Hayato's heart wrench. When it came down to it, he couldn't deny that Yamamoto made him happy, that Yamamoto truly loved him and he couldn't deny that being with him was what Hayato wanted too. Perhaps that would be so in an alternate universe, they could be together without their pasts that haunt them. In a different life they might meet by chance and be drawn to each other just like they had been in this world. And in that parallel universe, perhaps everything would be perfect. He'd have his friends that he cherished, his sister and Shamal wouldn't be so corrupt and Yamamoto would be a normal baseball idiot. Except there wasn't a way that was possible and the world they lived in was here and now and Hayato couldn't bring himself to make the right decision. He couldn't bring himself to let go but he couldn't keep him either.

"I... I can't. I know what you did and why you did it and as an officer of the law, I can't accept it either way," Hayato muttered.

Yamamoto traced over Hayato's cheekbone with his thumb. A flare of heat was left in it's wake. "What does the _real _Gokudera Hayato want?"

Hayato gazed at Yamamoto for a long time. He already knew the answer, he was just afraid to say it. If he said it, he couldn't go back. If he said it, things would get complicated. If he said it maybe his whole life would change.

"I... I want _you_," Hayato said.

Yamamoto surged forward and pressed his lips against Hayato's desperately. Hayato wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's neck and pulled him in close, lining the contours of his body against Yamamoto's. He wanted this, he wanted Yamamoto. He could think of what to do after but he needed to ease the aching in his heart.

Yamamoto propped himself up above Hayato and looked down at him, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled. "You make me really happy, Hayato."

Hayato's heart skipped a beat and he couldn't help his own grin spreading across his face. "Che. Just kiss me, idiot."

Yamamoto laughed and bent in, planting his lips against Hayato's.

Hayato fervently slipped his tongue through his mouth and his hands found purchase in the softness of Yamamoto's hair. It felt so long since he had kissed Yamamoto, he yearned for the taste of his tongue. The kiss was heated, much like his flesh and Hayato couldn't tell if it was the fever or Yamamoto's hardness pressed up against his thigh that made him feel so hot.

He didn't care about the outside world anymore. What he cared about was here and now, just the two of them intertwined between bed sheets much like they had been intertwined in this mess since the very beginning

Hayato didn't waste any time, he couldn't. He slipped off Yamamoto's shirt and slid his hands along Yamamoto's brawny back, mapping every curve of muscle that fluctuated. The moment should move slow, Hayato wanted that but time wasn't on their side. He had no idea when he'd change his mind next, how long they had been here and who might be looking for them. Even if Hayato wanted time to stop right here in this run down motel room, the outside world wouldn't be as generous and understanding.

Everything else was a blur, a tumble and tangle of limbs and their kisses were feverish and frenzied. Even the way Yamamoto made use of his tongue and teeth, so harsh yet so gentle showed Hayato he understood too.

Before long, Yamamoto's lips were making their way down his chest, his stomach moving under Yamamoto's palms as they stroked over it. A soft moan tumbled off his lips when Yamamoto's mouth wrapped around his cock and this time Hayato wasn't holding back anything. He didn't have the time to be reserved and aloof, he was going into this believing that this was going to be the last time they were together like this. That was the need for this desperation, and Yamamoto knew it too.

Yamamoto's mouth slid up and down his cock fluently and effortlessly and it took Hayato's breath away. His chest kept swelling, so much it felt like it was going to burst. He knows now that what he feels for Yamamoto is undeniably love, because you never really realize what you love until you let it go and you never really realize what you've had until it's gone. Now that he knows this, it's so _hard _to let go. It makes his heart twist and wrench and stretch until it threatens to break. Except it's already broken, it was the moment he walked in on Yamamoto beheading Tomakazu Tosaru. What he feels for Yamamoto is no longer just lust and maybe it wasn't really that to begin with. Maybe it had always been love at first sight.

Hayato was at his limit but he didn't want this to end. He wanted to stay here for an eternity if eternity would let him. Grasping Yamamoto's hair, he begged, "T-Takeshi... enough... I want you."

Yamamoto lifted his eyes up to meet Hayato's. "Are... are you sure?"

"Yes, just hurry up!"

Without another word, Yamamoto took his fingers into his mouth, staring at Hayato intensively. He drew them out lesiurely and ended with a pop and slid them into Hayato with ease. He took his time preparing and probing, slow and meticulously until Hayato was arching his back and moaning to the cheap stucco ceiling, legs splayed out wide and his heels dug into the mattress. The way Yamamoto's fingers curled and twisted inside him and every so often grazed against the bundle of nerves had him spewing out slews of stuttered curses.

"_Fuck_," Hayato gasped. "_S-shit. A-ah, fuck Takeshi!_"

"Feels good, Hayato?" Yamamoto's tone was rough and husky, and what he said was more like a invitation than an actual question.

"E-Enough," he pleaded. "Enough, already."

"Okay." Yamamoto moved his fingers out with a twist, eliciting a short gasp from Hayato. He gripped onto Hayato's hip firmly with one hand while the other guided his cock in tentatively. Hayato hissed and groaned at the burning stretch and sharp pressure of it branched up his spine. He grabbed the bed sheets in his fists and bit back a cry as Yamamoto's thickness filled him entirely.

"Oh God, Hayato," mumured Yamamoto as he leaned forward and began to move.

Hayato's hands flew up from the bed sheets to clutch Yamamoto's hair and bring him in for a lip bruising kiss. Yamamoto rolled his hips and Hayato groaned into his mouth, "Fuck me, Takeshi... slow and hard."

Yamamoto grunted in response as he thrust into him deeper and it sent bright flashing stars across Hayato's vision. He couldn't stifle the cry that erupted from his throat this time.

"Like that?" Yamamoto asked, low and smooth,

"Mm!" Hayato shouted as Yamamoto drove himself deeper. Heat twined through every inch of his body with every thrust. His limbs felt numb and his skin was on fire. His head throbbed with pressure, his heart thrummed hard against his chest and his cock pulstated with need. Yamamoto slipped out and thrust in again, snapping his hips hard and making Hayato call out his name. His breath fell on Hayato's neck, wet and wistful.

"Tell me you love me, Hayato." He slowed down his pace, eased up on the force of his thrusts and they rocked together in sync for a few minutes before Hayato wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

"I love you, Takeshi," he finally whispered in Yamamoto's ear. "I love you so much that it hurts."

And then Yamamoto kissed him deep, swallowing the pain and sorrow in Hayato's voice before adding, "Me too."

It was true, the conviction was there. Being with Yamamoto and making love like this was beautiful and bittersweet. Loving him was tragic. He was being tested on his resolve and he hated God for it. How many more of these tests would he have to go through before he was allowed to be happy? Or maybe it wasn't a test at all. Maybe it was his punishment for all the sins he had committed up to this point. His sins must be expiated by sacrificing his hapiness. By sacrificing Yamamoto.

The thought of it nearly brought tears to his eyes, or maybe that was the fever. Either way, he held Yamamoto tighter as he moved to his ryhthm. Regrettably, Hayato could feel the pleasure coil up and it was too much for him to contain. He let his orgasm rake through him, turning him inside out. He called out for Yamamoto, digging his blunt nails into his shoulder blades. He didn't want this to end, not yet. Before all he sought was release, but now all he did was loathe it. Once this was over he'd have to leave this warm haze of love and lust and go back to cold, hard clarity. He dreaded it.

"So beautiful," Yamamoto said as he thrust hard. "You're so beautiful, Hayato." He kissed along Hayato's jawline down to the sensitive spot behind Hayato's ear. Yamamoto jerked his hips, thrusting deep into him. He smashed his lips madly against Hayato's as he peaked, only opening his mouth to exhale a shaky, semi hitched breath.

"Ha...yato... _Sh-it_."

"Aah!" Hayato felt like he was going to spontaneously combust right here. Just burst into a blazing flame and be reduced to nothing but a pile of satiated ash. He locked lips with Yamamoto again, holding on to him for dear life and rode out his climax with him. If he let go of him now, that would be it. He'd have to let go for good.

Yamamoto broke away for a gulp of air and propped himself up, gazing down at him. He loved those eyes, especially now when the hazel of his irises were soft and clouded with lusty haze.

He was still seeing stars, his head was still pounding. The blood was heavy and rushing in between his ears and his temples throbbed. It felt like his head was going to split open but he didn't care about the searing pain of the headache. He just wanted to be here with Yamamoto and not think of anything else.

"What's... gotten in... to you?" panted Yamamoto, grinning like he didn't have a care in the world.

"What are... you talking about?"

"Haha, you were... really cute just now."

Hayato growled. "You bastard. There's... nothing cute or... beautiful about me."

Yamamoto dipped in and kissed Hayato's forehead and Hayato let out a soft, contented sigh.

"You're really hot, baby," commented Yamamoto.

"Che, pervert. Why do you have to go and open your mouth and ruin the moment, you bastard. And don't call me that."

"No, Hayato, I'm serious," Yamamoto said worriedly. "You're burning up."

Now that he mentioned it and the adrenaline rush was gone, Hayato's skin _did_ feel hot but not just that. His entire body felt like it was going to spontaneously combust into flames and his organs felt like they were going to liquify under the intense heat.

"I'll be... fine," Hayato mumbled.

Yamamoto tried to pull out, move to inspect Hayato but Hayato wouldn't let go. Yamamoto looked down at him in puzzlement.

"Hayato, let me get up. I'll go get something to clean up with and a cold cloth -"

"No. I don't care about any of that. Stay... with me." It was mind over matter, he could handle the pain in his head. He just needed to slow his heart rate down remain calm. His body temperature was only spiked because he had overworked himself with Yamamoto.

Yamamoto frowned. "Please let me take care of you, Hayato." He brushed a few rebellious strands of silver hair out of Hayato's face. "At least let me run you a bath. Your fever is getting worse."

Hayato reluctantly let go of Yamamoto so that he could move. "It's nothing."

"It is. You've had that fever for two days now. You caught it because you had been wet and freezing for so long. When I pulled you out of Kokuyo, you had passed out because of your head injury but your skin was like ice and your lips were blue." Yamamoto's frown deepened. "I thought you had died in my arms. I... I was so scared that I'd lost you."

So that's how long he's been out for. By this time now, the public was probably in a panic with the collapse of Kokuyo High and by this time, seven bodies would have been found in the rubble. Including that of a federal agent, Rokudo Mukuro.

He felt a pang of guilt strike his heart as he remembered the last moment of Mukuro's life. He didn't even look surprised let alone shocked. It was like he had accepted his fate and allowed Hell to open up and swallowed him whole.

"The car, my cell?" asked Hayato, watching Yamamoto through burning, watering eyes as he made. his way across the motel room.

"I ditched them," Yamamoto said with a shrug.

"The... room?" It was getting harder to focus on forming sentences or just anything in general. He tried focusing on watching the lines and curves in Yamamoto's lean and naked body as he flexed, wringing out a cloth and frowning.

"Paid for in cash under a different name."

It scared Hayato how prepared and calculated Yamamoto was. After all, Hayato still had the perception of an innocent baseball idiot rather than a ruthless killer. Yamamoto was like... a natural born hitman.

"You've got to get to a hospital, Hayato. The gash in your head needed stitches and I can't bring down your fever."

"No... no hospitals. They'll ask... too many questions."

Yamamoto returned, kneeling on the bed and placing the cold compress to Hayato's face and forehead. "At least take a cool bath."

"Have to... bring the fever... down first. It'll be too much shock... to my body." Hayato's vision blackened for a fraction of a second.

"Hayato, I don't know what to do. You look really pale. You... y-you might... you might d-die if it gets any worse," Yamamoto said, distraught.

Hayato was silent for a minute, leaning into Yamamoto's hand as it stroked through his hair, his fingertips grazing his scalp gently. He knew what Yamamoto said was the truth, but he didn't want to leave the sanctity of this room... the sanctity of Yamamoto's arms.

"Hayato... "

He could feel himself losing consciousness again, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. It felt like he was sinking underneath a thick sheet of ice. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't grasp on to alertness.

"Hayato, what should I do?!" Yamamoto's voice sounded far away, frantic and shrill but miles and miles away. There was only one thing he could think of. One person he knew that would help him despite his aversion to treating males.

"Un... Uncle," he managed tiredly. He pried his eyes open long enough to see the understanding on Yamamoto's face.

"Right then, you have to get dressed. We'll have to make it quick, they might be at your house."

_They_ meant the police. Hayato hoped that wasn't the case, but if he'd been MIA for two days, the Tenth was surely looking for him. It was a chance he'd have to take. It was either this or death and while Hayato couldn't see a future right now, while he couldn't figure out what to do, he didn't want to die just yet.

He nodded slowly and felt the mattress spring back up as Yamamoto's weight left it. He began to tremble, his body shivering even though it was on fire. Yamamoto was back within seconds with his clothes, a rolled towel and a wet towel, dealing with the clean up and helping him into his jeans and dress shirt. Normally he'd protest but he didn't have the energy to. Now dressed, Hayato sat on top of the bed sheets and fought to remain awake. Yamamoto grabbed the rolled towel and placed it in Hayato's lap.

"Here."

"What's... this?" Hayato asked, unrolling the towel cautiously. When he opened it, he found his tan leather shoulder holster complete with one stainless steel .44 Wildey Auto Magnum with it's 14" inch barrel. Hayato nearly jumped for joy, would have if he had the energy.

"My... my gun!" he exclaimed, the excitement somewhat contained due to his current condition.

"Yeah, I managed to grab it before I got you out of the school. I know how much Gokudera loves that gun," Yamamoto said proudly with a wide grin.

Hayato noticed himself smirking. This guy was a complete idiot, and even with his horrid past and everything he had done up to this point, he was still just an innocent idiot. _His _idiot.

Yamamoto hopped off the bed and got dressed hurriedly. He grabbed his glasses off the bed sheets and pushed them on to his face. Hayato watched him for a second; a lazy, half lidded gaze as he thought there was no helping it. The pull was just too much. Yamamoto was a bright and brilliant sun and Hayato was a meager little planet caught in his powerfully magnetic orbit.

_You still look fucking sexy in those glasses though, _Hayato thought amusingly. He mentally kicked himself thereafter for thinkiing about something like that at a time like this.

He slipped into the leather straps of his holster and frowned at the state of his clothes. The were rumpled and dirty and covered in blood. Seeing that reminded him of his injury. He lifted a hand and grimaced as his fingertips grazed over the crusted blood that tangled his hair and the long laceration set in his skull. He struggled to move, sharp pain bolting up his spine and down through his tailbone. He hissed and groaned and cursed himself for being so useless and pathetic. Yamamoto helped him out of bed without making comment and when his feet hit the floor, his knees buckled underneath him and he crashed into Yamamoto's arms.

"Fu-ck," Hayato muttered meekly.

"It's okay, I've got you. We'll flag a cab and get over there real quick, alright?"

Hayato leaned against Yamamoto's chest for support and nodded slowly as Yamamoto made his way for the motel door.

"Have... everything?"

"Mm, only brought one thing with me."

Hayato nodded and watched Yamamoto grab a slender, cylindrical bag from beside the front door and swing it over his shoulder. He looked over at Hayato and smiled.

"Close your eyes, baby. It's bright outside."

"Heh, stop... calling me that, bastard. Don't... love me anymore if you're gonna be... so embarr-assing," Hayato wheezed. His lungs were tightening and his heart was racing, too fast. His eyes were just about liquifield. _This is bad_, he thought. _I'm getting worse. I can't even see straight._

He felt Yamamoto nuzzle his hair and he could sense the grin on his face. Yamamoto kissed his head as he opened the door and they stepped out into the brightness.

"I'll never stop. I'll never stop loving you."


	25. Book I : My Saint : Final Chapter

_**Chapter XXV - The Final Decision **_

* * *

Yamamoto slid out of the taxi and pulled Hayato with him. He slung Hayato's arm around his neck and carried him up the driveway to his house. He hadn't gotten more than three feet when he stopped.

Hayato looked up at him hazily. "Wha..."

"H-Hayato... what happened here?"

"Hm?" He followed Yamamoto's gaze and his jaw dropped involuntarily.

The front of his house was a write off. It looked like a fire fight had gone on here. The windows and door had been blown out, the driveway was littered with glass and debris. There were bullet holes in the stucco and the shrubbery had been trampled.

Hayato's heart sank along with his stomach. He had forgotten one important thing while on his demented path of fuckery.

"The Bovino...," Hayato whispered.

"What?"

"M-my sister!" Hayato reached in his leather jacket and gripped the butt of his AutoMag.

"Hey, Hayato! Wait just a sec! The yakuza have probably come looking for you, it's not safe to go by yourself!" Yamamoto tightened his hold around Hayato's waist.

_I hadn't even thought of that..._

"It isn't... have to go... inside."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere or fight anyone!" Yamamoto said worriedly.

He was right. His fever had only gotten worse and now he was lucky if he could go five minutes without an auditory or visual hallucination or slurring his words. He could barely string together a sentence. But Bianchi might still be in there, she could be in trouble and he wasn't just going to stand there and wait for a sign that it was safe to embark further up the driveway and into the house.

"I'm... going."

Yamamoto set him against the garage door and pulled the cylindrical bag off his shoulder. He unzipped it and unearthed a katana with a golden sheath and hilt.

It startled Hayato for a moment. "Is... is that...?"

Yamamoto unsheathed his katana and flicked the blade so the sunlight caught it and it gleamed.

Hayato's never been a sword person, he prefers guns and explosives, but he had to admit it was a beautiful katana.

"Yeah, was my dad's. After my mom died... he gave it to me. Told me it didn't belong in his hands anymore," Yamamoto replied solemnly.

Hayato frowned. "T-Takeshi... are you done?"

"Hm? Done with what?"

"D-done with... killing..."

Yamamoto's eyes widened and he reached out, cupping Hayato's chin. "From now on, the only time I'm going to use my blade is to protect you."

Hayato would have blushed had his skin not already been scorching hot. "Che, idiot. What... a c-corny thing... to s-say," he said with a snort.

Yamamoto raised a brow. "Alright. How about this? If anyone tries to hurt you again, I'll have no problem taking their heads." He finished off his sentence with an unnaturally bright smile.

A shiver ran down Hayato's spine. He couldn't tell if that made him nervous, scared shitless, flattered or turned on. Probably all of the above.

"Ha... such a... moron." He somehow didn't have a problem with Yamamoto's above statement.

"Stay here," he said, placing a kiss to Hayato's forehead.

"N-no, I'm c-comin'," Hayato mumbled. He was in really bad shape now. He could barely muster the energy to stand but he'd be damned if he had to be a burden on Yamamoto anymore.

"Haha, so stubborn. Come then." Yamamoto wrapped his arm around Hayato's waist and hooked his arm over his neck.

"Che... You... you... "

"Haha, save it. Don't argue with me."

Hayato pouted and let Yamamoto help him to the door of his house. The sharp, metallic tang of blood and gunpowder invaded his nostrils the second they stepped over the threshold.

Yamamoto set Hayato against the wall and lifted his katana to his chest. He cautiously skulked into the foyer.

Hayato used the support of the wall to follow Yamamoto, armed with his gun in hand. They stepped into the living room and Hayato's jaw dropped for the second time.

The first thing Hayato noticed was his broken coffee table. In the midst of its wreckage lay a dead man with a bullet wound between his eyes. The second was his sofa; where there lay a second dead man. He was bent backwards over the back of the sofa with his head twisted unnaturally to the right and a blood soaked jacket.

After the initial shock of the two men dead in his living room, Hayato let the rest of the scene seep in. It looked like a tornado had torn through his home. Books and pictures had been torn off their shelves. Glass and ceramic shards jutted out of furniture and walls and the tatami mats. There was batting and feathers from his pillows and sofa cushions strewn across the floor. Bullet holes and shell casings everywhere.

"These guys don't look like yakuza," Yamamoto muttered under his breath. "They're wearing suits, could they be agents like Mukuro?"

Hayato shook his head. "Mafia."

Yamamoto's eyes widened. "Eh?!"

Hayato did his best to glower but it didn't work. "Keep it down," he hissed.

"Brats who show up unfashionably late miss all the fun."

Hayato whipped around in the direction of the kitchen. He didn't need to raise his gun, he knew that swooning voice all too well.

"Sh-Shamal!"

Yamamoto lowered his sword. "What happened here?"

"Ah, wouldn't you like to know..." Shamal poured himself a glass of what Hayato saw to be one of his reserved aged scotch. He would have given him hell except judging by the state he was in, he needed it.

Hayato inched forward and allowed his eyes to adjust. His vision was still slightly blurred because he couldn't keep his eyes from watering from the stinging burn.

Shamal's left sleeve was covered in blood. His lip was also split and he was sporting a fresh purple shiner over his left eye.

"You've... been shot," Hayato murmured.

"No shit, detective." Shamal shot back the scotch and poured himself another.

"What happened?" Yamamoto repeated, following Hayato into the kitchen.

Shamal leaned back against the counter and narrowed his eyes. "What are _you_ even doing here?"

"Not... now," Hayato breathed. The fever was beginning to overwhelm him and he couldn't stop trembling. "Where's... Bianchi?"

"The Bovino have her," Shamal simply replied.

Hayato's eyes blew open. "G-go g-get her back!"

"Nope, that's your job now. You fucked up, Hayato. You were supposed to be protecting her. Instead you were too busy fucking your boyfriend to give a shit. Path-"

"Don't talk to him like that!" Yamamoto growled, taking a step in front of Hayato. His chest flushed with warmth but he couldn't have this guy defending him. Just because he was ill didn't make him a pussy.

Hayato tugged on the back of his shirt. He wished he could just close his eyes and wake up in that parallel universe where none of this was his past. He wished he could just take Yamamoto to bed for an eternity and never leave. He wished things didn't have to be so fucked up and complicated. He wished he was stronger so that Yamamoto didn't have to fight his damned battles for him. "Yama... don't. S-Shamal, why t-take Bianchi? Why not... kill her?"

That was what they were after, wasn't it? They wanted Bianchi dead because they thought she poisoned Romeo. An eye for an eye, was the mafia's code. An eye for an eye and then some, maybe. By the look of it, there were more than just a few men that had come to his home. They would have killed Shamal and himself had they been home. Maybe even Yamamoto too, had he been here.

"Well, they've got quite the deal to strike up with your father. She's collateral now," Shamal said indignantly with a drag of his smoke.

Hayato wanted one real bad but it would probably have a very bad effect on his body to smoke after not smoking for a few days. He hasn't been smoking much at all lately and he doesn't want to admit it but he knows it's because Yamamoto doesn't like it. Maybe he should just quit and save himself the trouble.

He really shouldn't be thinking things like this at a crucial time like this. His brain felt like it were melting anyways, he couldn't focus on anything.

"Collateral for what?" Yamamoto asked.

Shamal's rich brown eyes narrowed again and his mouth frowned in distaste. "It's none of your damned business."

"Stop... Shamal... it's o-okay, he knows about t-the... mafia. I trust... him."

Yamamoto turned back to look at him in surprise. "Hayato..."

Shamal scoffed. "Of course he does. It doesn't mean he needs to be involved in family business." He shot back that glass and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his slacks.

"Just... tell me," Hayato urged.

Shamal pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, such a pain! Look, they want to exchange their merchandise. See at first they were hasty and thought wasting the merchandise would be the best idea. But then they decided if they could hold her for ransom, they'd have the upper hand. After all she is your father's princess."

Hayato groaned. "Get... to the... p-point."

"Heh, impatient little brat. It's rude to interrupt your elders while they're telling you a story, you know." Shamal poured another glass of scotch and shot it back.

Hayato didn't have the energy to say anything more. Shamal was getting on his last nerve and he was about ready to let Yamamoto loose on him if Shamal continued to piss him off.

"Anyways, they thought, why not a prince for a prince, right?"

"Huh?" both men asked in unison.

"Tch, you two are really dense. They want you in exchange for Bianchi and Romeo's life. In other words, they want your head instead of hers."

Yamamoto drilled his sword into the floor. It made a _clink_ sound when it hit the hardwood. "They can't have him."

Shamal arched an eyebrow in amusement. "That's really not your decision to make. What's with the sword anyway?"

"I'll... I'll go," Hayato said.

"Hm?"

Yamamoto pulled his sword back out of the floor and turned to Hayato, eyes wide. "You can't. Please."

This was the final chapter of his life. He could make up for everything this way.

"I h-have to."

"He really does. If he doesn't give his life for his sister's, it won't matter anyways, he'll be good as dead. Either his father or the Bovino will come to kill him."

"I won't let that happen," Yamamoto snapped angrily. "I'll protect him."

Shamal snorted. "You think you could take on the mafia with that little toy sword of yours? Don't be ridiculous," he said haughtily.

"Let... me go," Hayato said with another tug on Yamamoto's shirt. "No... future, re-remember?"

He was right, there wasn't any future. Yamamoto would go to prison and he would give himself to the Bovino for whatever they wanted him for. If they wanted him dead, then so be it. If it was to spare Bianchi's life, it was the least he could do. There wasn't anything left for him in this world anyways and as lame and cliché as it sounded, he really didn't think he could go back to living they way he had been before all of this happened. He didn't think he'd be able to live without Yamamoto.

His life in Japan was over anyways. Once the story got out that Yamamoto had been the killer, he'd be put under the spotlight and that stupid bitch, Miura Haru, wouldn't paint a pretty picture of him. He'd lose his job most likely, even though he hadn't known the truth until the very end. He'd be ridiculed by the townspeople. But worst of all he'd have to see the look of disdain in his boss's eyes. He'd have to see the disappointment in Tsuna's features, his head hung low in shame.

This way he could leave Yamamoto to be sentenced for what he did and he would go and atone for his sins. This was God's way of evening out the scales of justice. This was the right thing to do.

"Please, Shamal-san... Hayato isn't well," Yamamoto explained. "Don't let him make this decision on his own."

"I can see that. I don't need the details of your rough night sexcapades," Shamal muttered while lighting a cigarette.

"Sh...Sha..." Hayato felt the floor slip out underneath him and he keeled forward. Yamamoto's sword clattered to the floor and he swooped in with the reflexes of a cat and caught Hayato before he hit the floor. Yamamoto dropped to his knees and propped him into a sitting position on the floor, pulling him in to rest against his chest.

"It isn't like that!" Yamamoto protested. "He's got a bad fever! He's really sick. Please... look after him!"

Hayato gripped Yamamoto's shirt. He hated that he was begging this asshole on his behalf. At this point he'd rather die than have to depend on Shamal.

Shamal took a long pull of his cigarette and glared down at them. Finally with a sneer, he exhaled and simply said, "I don't treat men."

Hayato heard a strangled noise deep in Yamamoto's throat.

"But he's family! Please, I'm begging you!"

"... 'Nough. Don't... beg,' Hayato mumbled tiredly.

"Look, if it doesn't have beautiful curves and nice big tits - doesn't even have to be big, just nice and perky then -"

"Enough!" Hayato shouted frustratingly.

Yamamoto looked down at Hayato in surprise and then back up at Shamal. "I understand, but please... make an exception this time. He... he could die."

His voice was so soft that Hayato could hear it quivering. If he needed any more proof that Yamamoto loved him, that would be it. No self respecting man with even an ounce of pride would beg for another man's life unless he cared for them. With Hayato out of the picture, no one would know his secret and Yamamoto could continue on with his life like nothing had happened. Even knowing that he could still potentially go to jail for the rest of his life, he was willing to risk it all just for Hayato.

Shamal was silent for a long bastard actually sounded like he was mulling it over. Hayato wished he wasn't so weak so he could punch him for making Yamamoto beg for him and emasculating what was left of Hayato's pride.

Finally with a long sigh, "Listen here, you brat. You've got a lot of nerve to ask this of me after what I've just gone through. Put him to bed. I'll look at him. _Just this once._ Don't make a fucking habit of it."

"G-got it!" Yamamoto hooked his arms underneath Hayato's armpits and hoisted him up too quickly. It churned his stomach and he would have thrown up had there been anything in his stomach to expel. Blood rushed to his head causing the room to spin and he crashed into Yamamoto, nearly knocking him over.

"Sorry," he said softly.

Hayato nodded and thought when this was all over he was going to need to something manly to reinstate his pride. Being carried like a woman by his gay lover into a bed with his perverted female crazed uncle not far behind was just too embarrassing to come back from. He wouldn't ever live this down.

But then again, if he followed Shamal back to Italy, he wouldn't have to live with it for that much longer. The shame. of this moment could die with him.

Yamamoto set him on his bed and Hayato was glad to see that nothing had been touched in his room. At least there was still something normal and familiar of his old, simple life he could hold on to.

_How did it get like this?_

Yamamoto brushed the hair from his forehead. "We'll talk when you get better. I'm not leaving your side."

"Actually, kid, you are. The house has been shot up and blown apart. There's two dead guys inside and two out back," Shamal said, jabbing a thumb towards the back door. "I'm sure the cops will be coming soon, especially when they find out that this is a cop's address. You have to give me a heads up if they come."

"Wouldn't it be better to take him someplace else?"

"You were just begging on your knees for me to treat him. Do you think he'll make it much longer? I'll give him some anti-pyretics and then start an antibiotic IV drip when we leave. He'll be in good hands, don't worry."

Yamamoto looked at Hayato. The lines in his brow were creased and he was frowning. Hayato really hated that look. When it was time to say their final goodbyes, he'd have this face, wouldn't he? And he'd probably cry too. It made Hayato's chest feel heavy. It really can't be helped, though... when the time came he'd have to bear it. This was just the path that he chose to live, running from your past is impossible.

Hayato lifted his frail arm and poked Yamamoto in the corner of his mouth. "Don't... make that f-face... it doesn't s-suit... you." He let his finger trace down over Yamamoto's lips and fall onto the scar on his chin.

"Wah, I've never seen this brat so disgustingly adorable before. He must be delirious. Okay, go do your job, watchdog."

Hayato wanted to laugh. Not only had he used to be called the Tenth's watchdog, but now Yamamoto was his. And what was more amusing was that Yamamoto was in every sense a dog. Cute and loyal and vicious when it came to. protecting its owner. Yamamoto was just... everything he wanted and couldn't have.

Hayato's hand flopped back down on the bed and Yamamoto stood. He turned back and looked longingly at Hayato and sighed. "Alright, I'm going."

Yamamoto left the room and Shamal threw a black leather bag on to the dresser.

"You've got yourself quite the interesting character there, Hayato." Shamal easily transitioned from Japanese to Italian now that Yamamoto was out of earshot.

_Not that it matters, it isn't like he'd be able to understand, _Hayato thought.

"He's... an idiot."

"Yup, if he's involved himself with the likes of you, I concur."

"Sh-shut up, asshole."

Shamal rummaged through the bag some more, tossing pill boxes and syringes across the top of the dresser.  
"Even though you made a living being dependable on dexterity, you sure are a clumsy brat... Ah, here they are." Shamal turned. "So what happened to _you_?"

"I caught... the serial killer."

"Ah, that's good. Where is he now?"

"Heh..." Hayato felt strangled laughter bubbling in his throat. "Outside... the house."

"Very nice. These will bring down that fever. You're not making any sense, that can't be good." Shamal flashed a box of pills.

"Idiot... I'm... serious."

"Okay, Hayato... I believe you. Here, take them. Unless you want me to shove them down your throat." He grabbed Hayato's left hand and placed the pills inside his palm. He closed his hand over the pills and turned it over.

"Heh... you still wear this piece if junk?" Shamal asked, admiring the ruby ring Hayato wore on his middle finger.

Hayato snatched his hand away and shoved the pills into his mouth. He swallowed thickly, choking the pills down his dry esophagus. "S'not junk... was mother's."

Shamal smiled. "Your mother's, huh? You found this with her stuff your father had hidden away, right?"

Hayato nodded. He had found the ring in a black box his father had hidden in a locked drawer in his study. Once he had found out the truth about his mother, he ran away from home.

"Hayato... let me tell you a story. Can you bear it?"

The sudden seriousness set on Shamal's face was daunting. It made Hayato a little nervous but he nodded in agreement anyway.

"Turn your head, let me clean the wound you have back there."

Hayato obliged. He felt Shamal's fingers in his hair, separating the strands from the cut on the back of his head.

"Your mother... was a very beautiful woman. I first met her at a gentleman's club four years before you were born. She was playing the piano, soft and melodic, lost in her own world. She played with her soul, she once told me. Lavina was stunning, her... aura was peaceful and tranquil. You could tell she was a very free spirit."

"I don't want to hear... this coming out of your... p-perverted mouth, old m-man."

"Just shut up and listen, you brat. Don't you want to know more about your mother? You've never asked about her."

Hayato sighed. He was so tired and while he wanted to hear anything and everything about her, right now they didn't have time. They should be figuring out a plan to get Bianchi back, they should be boarding a plane to Italy right now. Not reminiscing in his broken down home while he could barely keep conscious.

"Priorities... " he mumbled.

"It's fine. I had my contact deal with the cops, I just sent your _boyfriend_ outside because I wanted to talk to you."

"Not... my -"

"Whatever, kid. Just shut up and listen, we have some time... Ah, this is infected. No wonder why your fever is so bad. Looks like you've been exposed to cold for too long as well. Tch, so irresponsible. You have such little regard for your life, Hayato." Shamal walked back to the dresser and removed a bottle of antiseptic and gauze from the leather bag.

"Che. Coming from the... bastard that... wants me to... trade my life-"

"I don't want that!"

Hayato startled. He's never heard Shamal use that tone of voice before. He's always been nonchalant and easy going.

"I... don't want that. We'll figure out a way to get your sister back without handing you over to the Bovino. You're father might think it's a simple solution but I don't. As his consigliere I have to stand by his decisions but... I can't this time. I won't allow him to put your life in jeopardy, Hayato."

Hayato stared at Shamal in shock. This wasn't Shamal... It couldn't be. He wasn't this... open, he wasn't caring. He didn't say shit like this. He was cruel and didn't care about anyone or anything save women. Either he was imagining it or Shamal had somehow been replaced by an UMA. Although he was pretty sure there hadn't been enough time in between the kitchen scene and now for them to make the switch, and for what? Out of all the people, why would any UMA want to take over a diseased riddled perverted old man like _Shamal_?

Shamal walked back over to the bed. "Turn your head again."

Still in shock and trying to process what was going on here, Hayato turned his head to the side. He felt Shamal's fingers in his hair again, prodding and patting and then the sharp sting and burn of the antiseptic. He hissed automatically and Shamal smacked him on the head.

"Ow," he muttered.

"Be a man about it, brat."

"Che. Bastard." Hayato was pretty sure it was the same Shamal, and that he just had another one of his auditory hallucinations.

"Now, be good and let me tell you a bedtime story about your mother. It's about time you hear it," Shamal said with a sigh. Hayato felt the mattress dip near his hip and he turned to see Shamal with his back facing him.

"As I was saying, I met your mother a long time ago while I was still a doctor, in a lounge. I was out with some potential clients and she was playing the piano. The music was so enthralling that I couldn't even focus on my clients. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. Later that night, after her set, I stayed behind and introduced myself to her. She wasn't shy or cold, she was just... happy. I couldn't bring myself to ask her to come back to my suite, she wasn't that type of woman, I could tell. Your mother deserved to be treated with class, you know? With respect. She was _that _kind of woman. A _lady."_

Hayato couldn't help the shock scribbled all over his face. He didn't have to be an idiot to know where this 'story' was going and the last thing he wanted to think about was how his mother had ended up with Shamal _and _his father. He wanted Shamal to stop before he destroyed the perfect image he had of her. But he couldn't bring himself to do it because the curiosity was eating at him. His father never once spoke about his mother. Anything he knew of her was from word of mouth or what he could remember of her, and that wasn't much. To hear Shamal talk about her was like he was reliving a part of her history, like he was right there in the moment with them. He closed his eyes and decided he'd allow Shamal to continue, if just for a little while.

"I went back to that place every chance I could get, and each time I'd talk a little bit more with her. I got to know that she loved music, loved the piano... loved the beach. Such simple things but she was the epitome of elegance and she didn't even know it." Shamal sighed, nostalgic. "She was just... amazing. And eventually I gathered enough guts to ask her out -"

Hayato groaned. He didn't want to hear any more.

"I know right? Me, having trouble asking a woman out? Unheard of. But I was... captivated by her in every way."

"Sh-Shamal... please don't tell me..."

"Shut up, you perverted brat. As if I'd talk about your mother like that to you! What kind of man do you take me for?"he asked, looking back at Hayato incredulously.

Hayato glared at him with silver brows raised.

"Okay, okay, get it. But no, this story isn't like that so just stop talking. It's really annoying being interrupted all the time. Make me lose my train of thought."

"Ugh... get on with it... old man."

"So impatient," Shamal whined. Hayato rolled his eyes.

"Anyways, the first night I went out with your mother... it was so lame, but it was the best night of my life. After her set, I took her out for gelato and then we walked on the beach. It was beautiful at night, the sound of the ocean and the tide crashing in... You could see the stars so clearly in the sky and the moon was so bright. But nothing was as radiant as your mother. The way she talked, the way she laughed... she was just so... beautiful and she didn't even khow it."

Shamal's words tugged at Hayato's heart. It hurt to hear that his mother was once happy, it hurt to know that on some level, he was the destruction of her happiness.

_"Hey, whatever happened to that lady that came to teach me piano?"_

_"What are you talking about, Luciano? She's right there."_

_"What?... What is this?"_

_"It's blood, Luciano. The blood of that woman, your mother. Her blood is on your hands."_

Hayato shuddered with the sudden recollection of his reoccurring nightmare. Now was not the time to be thinking like this. He didn't want to hear anymore, he couldn't bear it. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair for him to have sucked the light right out of his mother and have her life end the way it did. If he hadn't been born, she would still have been alive.

"Hayato... are you okay? Those aspirin working for you yet? They're a little stronger than regular aspirin, something I concocted myself."

Hayato had began to notice most of the heat was being replaced by cold sweat and his body temperature was falling. He wasn't out of the woods yet and he still felt tired and exhausted even though he had slept for two days. He could sleep for a week and he'd still wake up just as exhausted. The stress of his current path was too overwhelming.

"I'm fine," he said quietly.

"Good... that's good. I'll finish up now. Your mother and I... well, I fell in lover with her, and she fell in love with me. She was and has been, the only woman I have ever let into my heart. She deserves it, she's earned her place there, even though she isn't here anymore.

"I never told your father about my romance, never told anyone about my personal life... but when your father asked me to join him at his side, I knew that our relationship was done for. I agreed, your father was my best friend, of course. But I knew being a part of the mafia... being your father's consigliere, there wasn't any way I could bring your mother into that world.

"She was patient with me, even when I told her that being together was impossible, even when I told her that I couldn't devote the time to her and your father... She would always say, with the biggest smile on her face, _'Don't forget how beautiful your heart is_'... I couldn't... I couldn't let her go."

Hayato remembered that... Hayato remembered when she taught him to play piano that she told him to play from the heart, to feel the music. That as long as he never forgot how beautiful his heart was, he'd always play beautiful music. Hayato wasn't a man that cried easy, but he could feel the tears in his eyes well up. All the memories he had of his mother before he knew she was his mother, dredged up out of the back of his mind. They were all sweet memories but they were so painful to remember. The last one, just days after his birthday knowing that she was supposed to come and being so excited, that he practiced playing a song that she taught him until the sun set. Until he realized that she wasn't coming... that was the last time anyone ever mentioned the young pianist in his home. It was the last time Hayato ever touched a piano.

"The time I had with your mother was short after that but we tried to keep in contact without anyone knowing. Until one night we went out to a lounge your father had just taken over and low and behold, your mother was the entertainment. Your father went on to tell me he had heard of this gorgeous woman with long silver hair and sparkling green eyes that played music so beautifully it was equivalent to a choir of angels singing. I knew right away he was infatuated with her, and I knew right then and there I had lost her. Not because she was the type to be unfaithful, but because what your father wanted, he got, even if he... took it by force," Shamal spat out in disgust.

Hayato also grimaced. He hated his father so much, he could feel it coursing hot through his veins. He understood now what Yamamoto meant by a darkness inside. He felt that way too. Yamamoto was definitely on the mark when he had said that if Hayato had ever gotten the chance to kill his father, he would.

"Your mother, she... she couldn't stop apologizing to me for something your stupid father had done and I... I couldn't abandon her in a time where she felt so lonely and degraded. She didn't deserve that but there wasn't anything I could do except be there for her. I loved her, and your father couldn't change that... I kept... I kept seeing her, I stayed by her side and I made a promise to her that I would find a way out so that I could take her away from Italy, away from the mafia and away from the clutches of your father. With that promise, I gave her a ring. It wasn't anything special, it wasn't diamonds and gold but it was the ring I had received when I was initiated into your father's company. It was a ring to signify that your mother was my first priority, not the mafia. It was... the same ring you wear on your finger,"

Hayato's eyes blew wide and he instantly brought the ring up to his face and stared at it, blinking repeatedly. "This... this is _your _ring?"

Shamal turned and smiled half-wittedly. "Piece of junk, see? It doesn't hold much meaning now, I couldn't keep my promise to Lavina."

"Even if... even if it was yours, it still belonged to my mother... It isn't junk. I... I never expected this," Hayato said, still astonished.

"Sorry to drop a bomb on you like that, kiddo... but... there's still more to the story. Do you want to hear the rest?"

Hayato thought about it. Did he really want to hear the rest? Could he handle it? He was already close to tears, and crying in front of this pervert would only be embarrassing and in the end, piss him off.

_But how do I just accept this?_

_Let's be honest, you knew right from the start where the story was headed, didn't you? Part of you knows where it's going next, don't you?_

He did... He knew right when Shamal told him about being in love with his mother that this story wasn't going to have a happy ending. It was mafia love, it never had a good ending. And his mother's story ended in nothing but tragedy anyways. And part of him, deep down inside, knew what Shamal was going to say next. He was bright, he always has been and it didn't take him long to figure that out either. But after everything... after hearing everything he just heard, there wasn't any way he could bear the news. There wasn't any way he could consciously acknowledge it.

He remained silent and simply nodded anyways, because in the end his curiosity always got the better of him.

"You already know that adulterated relationships are unforgiving in the mafia world. I stayed with your mother, even though your father was still involved with her. It wasn't her choice, and she didn't want me to see her in that kind of light but... Your mother always shone brighter than the moon. I could never see her in any other light than that one. When your mother became pregnant... she was happy and scared all at the same time. She was happy for you but she knew... she knew she'd have to give you up. She asked me to look out for you and of course, I was going to. After you were born, I looked after you as best I could, _I _talked your father into letting your mother see you. It wasn't right, what he was doing... They passed you off as their child and your father was determined for everyone to believe you were his son, even though you looked nothing like him. His wife couldn't bear children after Bianchi was born and the truth was he knew he'd never have a son. Without you, there'd be no heir to the famiglia and that would be an embarrassment. Getting your mother out of the picture so that there was no proof and no choice but for everyone to believe you were a child he conceived with his wife was the only way he saw fit. I tried to talk him out of it, I tried to warn your mother to run, run as far away from Italy as she could and I promised her I'd take care of you..."

Shamal sighed despairingly. "And then... your father found out that we were together. I don't know how, but he had his ways... I thought I had been careful but... Hayato..." Shamal hung his head and covered his face with his hands.

There wasn't a way Hayato could hold back the tears now. They stung his eyes and flowed down his cheeks. He wanted to say something, _anything_ but there wasn't a single word he could utter. He didn't know how much more he could take of this, how much more he could take of all the emotional damage that he had endured in the last month.

"Hayato, I am so sorry but... your mother's death is all my fault."

"S-Shamal..." _It wasn't your fault, you stupid idiot. It was that bastard's. _But he couldn't find his voice to say the words out loud.

Shamal was silent for a minute, his face held in his hands. Hayato couldn't tell if he was weeping or not but he gave him the time to grieve. Hell... he needed it too.

Shamal sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. "There's... there's one more thing I need to tell you. And... well... I'm glad you chose to go by the name 'Hayato', after you learned about your mother. I'm sorry I never said anything but... I was selfish and to spare my life, I swore never to tell you the truth about your mother. But... as stupid as you are sometimes, you've grown into a fine man, Hayato, despite your past. Your mother always wanted to name you 'Hayato'... but, that's not what I need to tell you... and I'm sorry for doing this now. I should have done it a long time ago and maybe I could have saved you back then. I could have done something for you, but I was scared... Scared for my life, and scared for yours if you knew the whole truth. After your mother's death, I was a train wreck and I was in no position to care for a brat, especially not one with as much spitfire as you."

The doctor looked back at Hayato and there was a seriousness in his eyes he'd never seen before. "Hayato... the last time I was with your mother was shortly before your father was. And shortly thereafter, she became pregnant with you..."

Hayato didn't need Shamal to finish his sentence before he connected the dots and added the dates and times in his head. The epiphany slapped him in the face with such force that he physically felt it. His eyes had taken to permanantly being wide with shock since the beginning of this conversation and he didn't think they could get any bigger than they currently were. His chest felt tight and his stomach churned and the air from his lungs became trapped in his throat.

"It's possible that I... could be your father."

Hayato felt like he needed to throw up. All this time... all this time, things could have been different. This whole time he could be living a completely different life with a mother and a father that loved their child and nowhere in his life would there be remnants of the mafia or anything associating. All this time, he could have had a _better _father than the one that he had if Shamal had only told him sooner.

But would it have made anything easier? Or different for that matter? If what Shamal said was true, he wasn't allowed to say anything. Would his father have Shamal killed too? And what if Hayato had known back then about this... this possibility... would it have made him any less reckless? Probably not. He'd probably be just as fucked up as he was now, if not more. But if what Shamal is saying was true then... then he had something to live for, right? It was a little too late and Shamal would never be the perfect cookie cutter father, but he would be there. And in his own way, he'd care. Even when Hayato was at his worst and rebellious and difficult to handle, Shamal still took care of him. He never turned him away and said that Hayato had reminded him of all the failures in his life. He was _always _there for Hayato, just like a real father should have been.

"Haya-"

"Shamal-san?" Yamamoto's voice rang clear in the empty hallway. Hayato quickly wiped his face off with the heels of his hands. Shamal cleared his throat and stood.

"What is it?" Shamal called hastily.

Yamamoto appeared in the doorway and smiled brightly when he his eyes fell on Hayato. "Uh, there's a guy out front with a car... says he's your contact and he's here to pick you up?"

"Che, and you just left him outside?" asked Hayato. "That could have been anyo-"

"Ma, no worries," Yamamoto said with a nonchalant shrug. "I temporarily incapacitated him. He's in the driver's side of the car."

Shamal looked from Yamamoto to Hayato. "Where did you find this guy again?"

Hayato rolled his eyes. "I didn't... he found me."

Shamal smirked. "Keep him around," he said, clapping his hand down on Yamamoto's shoulder. "He's got a smile just like your mother's."

He walked out of the room and down the hall, whistling a tune Hayato recognized all too well. It was the very first song his mother had taught him how to play on the piano. Just the thought of it all made too many emotions resurface and he fought the tears back. He didn't want to cry in front of Yamamoto. Although, maybe he might. It's been a long, long day and it was time to say goodbye.

"What was that all about?" Yamamoto asked.

Hayato shrugged. "He's an idiot."

Yamamoto sat in the same spot Shamal had sat in on the bed and turned to face Hayato, running his hand across the sheets. "Haha... This brings back memories," he said with a smile. "The morning after I kissed you and you saved me... How many times did we do it? Four, five?"

A tingle rippled across Hayato's skin and he smiled meekly. "Shut up, pervert."

Yamamoto leaned in and brushed the fringe out of his eyes and frowned. "You look like you've been crying. Are you okay?"

Hayato swallowed thickly and nodded slowly. "Yeah... I'm fine."

"You don't feel as hot, feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Hayato... is there something wrong? I mean... with everything that's happened, it's a lot to take in... And now your sister is missing and... you have to go back to Italy, right? What... what does that mean for us?"

Hayato didn't know what to say. He had just learned that Shamal could be his father, thinking about what would happen between them was the last thing on his mind right now. He didn't know how to feel about any of this, he didn't know what he should do. It's not like he could tell, he looked like his mother. His hair did kind of look like Shamal's but he couldn't tell if it was because he styled it that way or if it was just the way it grew in. And he had never felt close to his real father, never been treated like a son should have been.

Maybe now it was possible to go back to Italy and straighten things out, set things right. He'd find another way to put his father and the mafia down, he'd find a way to get Bianchi back without having to die. He would stand against his father and show him that he was an independent man, that he wasn't corrupt or lost. He could show his father that he had something far better to stand for and he wouldn't be brought down so easily. He could do it, if he did it right. If he was patient and calculated, he could easily underhand his father. All he had to do was try. If that meant he died while trying then so be it. At least he'd die with no regrets. Except for the one he'd have to leave behind in Japan.

"Hayato?"

Hayato snapped out of his trance and looked over at Yamamoto. "S-sorry."

Yamamoto smiled and he realized Shamal was right. He did have a smile like Lavina's. His personality was just like hers too. Had he not been bathed in his own mother's blood, he'd never have that dark streak. And their love was tragic too, wasn't it? Just like his mother's and Shamal's. He was destined to die, even if Shamal said it wasn't going to end up that way, _he _knew it was. It was what he wanted. There wasn't any way he could live with everything he's done and live in a life for the mafia, but he couldn't come back to Japan. And he didn't want another fresh start. He was too old and too jaded and just too _tired_.

And Yamamoto, he didn't know what would become of him. Maybe he'd go to jail or maybe with Hayato gone, he'll continue to live his life like he had been doing before Hayato came along and complicated things. Either way now was the time they went their separate ways. He couldn't have ties to Yamamoto when he went back home, he would be a liability and a weakness used against him and Hayato didn't want him to get hurt.

Suddenly he felt arms around his neck and a nose nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder. Yamamoto was truly like a canine. And Hayato was definitely, undeniably going to miss him.

"Hayato... please let me come with you," he said softly.

"I can't... you don't belong there," Hayato replied, running his fingers through Yamamoto's hair.

"I don't care if I belong here or there... where I belong is by Hayato's side, right?"

Hayato bit his lip. Letting go was much harder than he had anticipated. There wasn't any use being angry over anything anymore. They both had reasons for why they did what they did. When it came down to it, they both had strong feelings for each other and that's what mattered.

Even if he wanted to take Yamamoto with him, which part of him did, there wasn't a way they could have such an open relationship like they did here. Being in any relationship outside of the mafia was forbidden; you wanted a wife or a husband then they better be involved with the mafia too, and they better be from an allied family. Being with an enemy family would get you killed. Being with anyone outside of the mafia would most likely get your partner killed and being gay was out of the question. It was shameful and against God and looked down upon in every way. Even though Hayato knew that many mafia men with wives had homosexual relationships, it was all secretive. If you ratted, you ended up dead. If they were found out, they ended up dead. Either way, Yamamoto didn't know the severity and the seriousness of it all. He wouldn't be able to contain himself and they'd end up dead. Not to mention, Yamamoto was Japanese and not part of any mafia, yakuza or otherwise. He was just a regular suburban boy. Even if he knew how ugly the world could be, because he witnessed it first hand, he was still too innocent and naive to be a part of Hayato's world and Hayato couldn't have his blood on his hands too. There wasn't any way he could live with himself after that.

"I told you, remember? That I wanted to be with Hayato forever? Forever... forever doesn't end today." Yamamoto's voice was trembling. Hayato couldn't stand it.

"Yamamoto... it has to be done. You and I... we're..." Hayato sighed. "We just can't. It's different there, everything is different. You can't be who you are now, they'll kill you for that. Just... go live a happy life with your dad. He needs you right? He's lost your mother, don't let him lose you too."

Yamamoto sat up with tears in his eyes. "That was really cruel, Gokudera," he cried, wiping his face with the back of his arm.

Hayato eased himself in a sitting position too and frowned. "I'm... sorry. Look... I just found out that old pervert out there..." He sighed heavily. "Might be my father."

Yamamoto blinked the remaining tears out of his eyes. "W-What?"

"Yeah. He was in love with my mother, they loved each other and my father took her away from him. And when he found out that Shamal stayed with her despite all that, he killed her. People die for the stupidest reasons there, even for love. Is that what you want, Takeshi? To die for me?"

"Of course I'd die for you! I'd do anything for Gokudera!"

"Stupid! Don't say such careless things! Why are you going to throw your life away for someone else?!"

"Why are _you_ going to throw your life away for someone else?!"

Hayato stilled, red in the face. "I... I'm not. Shamal and I... we're going to figure out another way. If he is... my father, I don't want to just waste that opportunity."

Yamamoto touched Hayato's cheek and stroked his fingers down underneath his chin, tilting it upwards. Heat flared from the soft brush of his fingertips. "Then... can't I be there to share that with you?"

Hayato felt his lips tremble and he snapped his head away from Yamamoto's fingers. "Tch! Don't you understand?! You deserve to be free! You don't deserve to be dragged through my bullshit! I... I don't want that for you." Hayato let out a heavy sigh.

Yamamoto's face softened. "I won't be free if I'm not with you. I've never been so happy, Hayato... you _saved _me from myself, do you understand?"

Hayato's pupils blew wide and warmth spread throughout his entire body and it wasn't feverish heat. His heart was racing so fast that it hurt, his chest felt constricted and heavy.

_The one that was saved was me, you idiot..._

_And if he left for good, who would be your saviour then? He's killed men that were criminals, who evaded the justice system and got away with heinous crimes. He's killed men to protect you. Maybe it's wrong, but aren't you heading to Italy for the same reason? He wants to protect you, you know he's capable. You know you can make it work. He wants to be by your side, he wants to be... your saint._

"My... saint," Hayato repeated under his breath.

"H-huh?"

"Takeshi... I... I..." Hayato averted his eyes and picked at the comforter on his bed. He wanted to say the rest, he wanted to tell Yamamoto everything but he just didn't know how. If he did, it would be set in stone and there'd be no going back. If anything happened to Yamamoto in Italy, it would be his fault and he'd have to live with that. He wasn't sure if he could do it.

"Hayato?"

"Yeah, there's those two assholes in there and two in the back. We've got to get this place fixed up. You call the cleaners yet?"

Shamal's voice boomed from the living room. He was speaking Italian but his voice was loud enough for both of them to hear.

"Yes, boss. I've made all the necessary preparations for your departure," came a second voice. This must be the man Yamamoto subdued.

"It's got to look like uh, he just left town. The Asian, everything he's touched, get rid of. I left you with the information concerning his apartment. There should be no trace of him anywhere. Same goes for Miss Filippi and Master Filippi. You understand?"

_So Shamal expects Yamamoto to come as well..._

"Yes, certainly. I'll relay all the information to the cleaners once they arrive. The jet will be waiting just outside of Osaka. The data has already been programmed into the GPS of the towncar."

"Good. Thank you. Also, our arrival in Sicily must be kept quiet, even from the Don. If word gets out, Master Filippi will be targeted before we're able to retrieve his sister."

"Yes, of course. The... Asian man will be accompanying you?"

There was silence for a second and when Shamal spoke next, his voice was full of mirth and mischief. "Yeah, he is. He's Master Filippi's bodyguard."

"Hayato, what are they saying?" whispered Yamamoto.

"Heh... sly bastard," Hayato muttered amusingly.

"Hey, Hayato... that's not fair, tell me what they're saying!" Yamamoto whined.

Hayato looked over at Yamamoto and shook his head. "Like a kid..."

Yamamoto grinned. "But you love me anyways, right?"

Hayato basked in the glow of that smile, wide and bright and just for him. There would never be another person he'd meet in his lifetime that would smile at him the way Yamamoto did. There'd never be another person that would love him as much or devote his life to the way Yamamoto did. There would never be another Yamamoto. But that was fine... He only needed this one.

"Hey... Takeshi."

"Hm?"

"Come with me."

Yamamoto startled, wide eyed. "Eh? Really? Is it really okay?"

"Yeah... where else would I find another watchdog as loyal as you?" Hayato said with a smirk.

Yamamoto let out a laugh and tackled him down on the bed.

"H-hey, you big idiot! Get off me! H-Heavy!"

Yamamoto's mouth closed over his, muffling his protests. Hayato stopped struggling against him and wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's back, embracing him.

"I'm... I'm so happy!" Yamamoto's exclaimed, his voice cracking.

Hayato looked up into Yamamoto's watery eyes and smirked. "Hn? You're not gonna cry like a little kid now, are you?"

Yamamoto grinned devilishly. "No... I'm going to kiss you like a -"

"So kiss me then, baseball idiot," Hayato said, brushing his lips against Yamamoto's.

"I'm going to."

"So shut up and do it already."

Yamamoto chuckled and closed the distance between their mouths. Hayato tangled their tongues roughly, passionately and his fingers grasped the hairs at the back of Yamamoto's neck. There will never be anyone who tastes as deliciously sweet as Yamamoto does, no one that could ever make his synapses snap and fizzle with white hot electricity hair from one kiss. Hayato is confident in his final decision. He's definitely made the right choice, even if part of him still feels like its selfish.

"Oi, oi... The man that's changed that brat's diapers shouldn't be seeing this sort of thing."

Hayato and Yamamoto froze. Redness flushed through both their faces and they quickly parted.

"You disgusting brats ready to go? There's no time for sucking face. We've got to catch a plane."

Hayato and Yamamoto looked at each other and grinned.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Hayato said.

"Me too!" Yamamoto said, jumping off the bed, jostling Hayato and making his stomach flop.

"Idiot! You're too excited!" he scolded.

"Haha, I am!" He smiled wide and held out a hand for Hayato to take.

"Che, I'm not an invalid. I can get out of bed myself."

Shamal rolled his eyes. "Maybe not, but you _are _slow. Can you two move this along?"

Hayato slipped off the bed and shakily stood on his feet. "Shut your annoying trap, old man. God, you're noisy."

"Ah, don't be embarrassed, Haya-chan. You're so cute when you're smooching. Like a woman," Shamal mocked.

Hayato shot a heated glare in the doctor's direction. "Disgusting, you know that? You're perverted and disgusting. Go die."

"Ma, ma... Calm down you two. Hayato, are you okay on your own?"

"Yes, dammit. Just go already."

"My subordinate will pack up your essential belongings and have them shipped unmarked to Italy, Hayato."

Hayato nodded. That was convenient.

"Yama... moto, was it? You have everything you need?" Shamal asked, packing his supplies back into the leather bag he had left on the dresser.

Yamamoto lifted the cylindrical bag he carried his sword in and grinned. "Yup!" He looked over at Hayato and softened his smile. "Everything I need is right here."

Shamal and Hayato rolled their eyes. "Gross," they said in unison.

Yamamoto laughed and followed Shamal out of Hayato's bedroom and he took one last look around the room. It wasn't the house he was going to miss, probably not even Japan. But he knew he was going to miss the Tenth. He hoped that somehow he'd be able to put his mind to ease so that he wouldn't have to worry. He's made Tsuna worry enough about him already. He felt a pang of regret that he wouldn't be able to attend the Shōgatsu festival with the Tenth but he was happy that at least there'd be someone that Tsuna could spend the New Years with. That man, Kozato Enma, seemed like a good man. If he made the Tenth happy then that was all that mattered. He only hoped that one day he'd be able to see Tsuna again and get to meet Enma, the man that would took care of the Tenth in his stead.

"Oi, brat, you done reminiscing?"

Hayato looked down the hall and Yamamoto stood in the middle of it, waiting for him.

"Y-yeah. Coming." He joined Yamamoto in the hallway and before he left the house, grabbed the reserved scotch Shamal had been drinking off the counter along with his cigarettes.

Yamamoto raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"What? They're for later," Hayato said with a shrug.

Yamamoto laughed and left the house with Hayato close behind. They walked past Shamal's subordinate who took a step back from Yamamoto and nodded his head.

"M-Master Filippi."

Hayato tipped his two fingers off the side of his head in a half-assed salute. "Yo."

"Tch, what a carefree brat," Shamal muttered. "Get in the damned car, you idiot."

Yamamoto stopped in the driveway and turned back, curiosity written all over his face.

"Ne, Hayato... you used to work for the mafia, right?"

"Yeah, and? We've been through this before, haven't we?"

Yamamoto scratched his cheek. "Hm, I'm just curious. What exactly did you do?"

Hayato grinned mischievously and strut past Yamamoto, nose in the air. He looked back just before he got in the car and winked.

"I'm a demolitions expert."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**YAAAAAAY! **

Well folks, that concludes the first installment of My Saint, Your Saviour : Book I . I want to thank everyone who has read it and will read it, all the people who have taken the time to review it and favorite/follow it. I'm glad you enjoyed the story and I feel like it's taken forever but it's finally done now and I'm so relieved!

I'll be taking a break from this story however to recharge my creative flow and maybe finish up the bazillion unfinished fics I have on the go right now. But never fear! Hayato and Takeshi _will _be back and they'll begin their new adventure in Italy, so look forward to it!

Finally, I'd like to thank everyone that has contributed to this fic in one way or another. You all know who you are and I love you guys so much! xo

**Takeshi's Note: **

Ne, Author-san... What does Hayato mean by 'demolitions expert' ? It means he's an expert at making things go **crash! bang! boom! bam!**, right?

**Hayato's Note:**

Idiot, why don't you ask me yourself? And don't make those stupid noises, you sound like a moron. I use dynamite and I blow shit up. Capiche?

**Takeshi's Note: **

Eh? What does ca-capichey mean?

**Hayato's Note:**

You're a hopeless idiot. Honestly, like a little kid. You have to learn Italian if we're going to Italy. It's essential. I'll teach you if your feeble brain can handle it.

**Takeshi's Note:**

Uh... but Hayato... you're explanations are really hard to understand... and they make me want to fall asleep.

**Hayato's Note:**

Why you..! You bastard! I'll show you what a demolitions expert can do, you brainless idiot! Capiche?!

**Takeshi's Note:**

Waaah! Gokudera, don't throw fireworks in here! It's really dangerous!

**Author's Note:**

Uh... for those who don't know, c_apiche _is Italian slang for 'understand', like, "Do you understand?". Oi, are you guys done acting like idiots here?! I really need to wrap this shit up now! Gokudera, put down the dynamite! Yamamoto, put down that bat! Honestly, you two!

**8059's Note:**

S-scary... Sorry, Author-san. We'll behave.

**Author's Note****:**

**ALRIGHT, THAT'S A WRAP! **


End file.
